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PAULA 


A  Sketch  from  Life 
By  Victoria  Cross 
Author  of  "  The 
Woman  who  Didn't 


tj.  >j 


London   Walter  Scott  Ltd 
Paternoster  Square 


PR 
Goo5 

t  f&£  P 


"...   cro<£o§  cror//uS  or,  TrXrjv  a  Set  cr  eiYcu  crcxftov. 
A.    .    .    .    Xurcro/xevda  a,  rfiiKi'iKapiev. 
-i.    o^   e/iauea    ~>]p-as,  ote  0    eXPy]l\  0VK  J/^ere. 
A.    iyvwKa/iev  ravr  '   dXX  eVe^epxei  Xiav. 
A.    kcu  yap  7r/)os  v/j-wv,  deos  yeyws,  r/3pi(o/x?;j/." 

" .   .  .  So  wise  !  so  wise  !  except  in  those  things  in  which 

you  should  be  wise. 
A.  .   .  .   Have  pity  !     I  have  erred. 
A.   Too  late  you  admit  it;  but  when  it  was  necessary  then 

you  did  not  know  it. 
A.   I  have  learned  it :  but  your  punishment  is  excessive. 
A.  Yes  :  for  I  am  a  Deity,  and  you  outraged  me." 


PAULA 


i 


[  T  was  between  twelve  and  one :  the  night  was 
dark  and  wet,  with  some  snow  falling  occasion- 
ally through  the  blackness.  The  rain-swept  streets 
were  deserted,  cleared  by  the  icy  gusts  of  wind 
that  came  whirling  down  them  and  making  the 
light  flicker  till  it  was  blue  in  the  lamp-posts. 

The  Strand  was  almost  quiet,  the  theatres 
closed.  The  rush  of  cabs,  the  hurry  and  confusion, 
the  warfare  of  dripping  umbrellas  above  the  strug- 
gling crowd,  the  crush  of  wet,  wind-blown,  angry 
figures  dispersing  in  different  directions,  all  the 
noise  and  bustle  attending  the  disgorgement  of  the 
different  theatres  was  over,  and  the  Strand  relapsed 
into  gloomy,  sullen  blackness  and  quietude. 

All  who  had  any  shelter  of  any  sort,  any  place 
bearing  the  remotest  resemblance  to  home,  sought 
it  hastily  that  night.     Anywhere  to  be  out  of  the 


8  PAULA 

teeth  of  that  gusty  wind  and  the  grip  of  the  falling 
temperature !  * 

In  one  of  the  small,  poor,  black-looking  houses 
of  Lisle  Street,  Leicester  Square,  in  the  window 
over  the  door — that  is  to  say,  the  drawing-room 
window — glowed  a  red  blind.  The  light  behind  it 
must  have  been  strong  and  the  crimson  blind  new, 
for  it  made  a  warm  patch  of  colour,  a  striking 
point  in  the  damp,  dismal,  narrow  street.  It  looked 
warm  and  cheery,  that  little  red  square,  and  it 
seemed  to  wink  knowingly  at  you  as  you  turned 
up  Leicester  Street  towards  it,  or  blink  sleepily 
if  you  passed  straight  on  along  Coventry  Street, 
giving  it  only  a  sidewray  glance.  Behind  the  red 
blind  was  a  small  square  room  with  a  low  and 
rather  grimy  ceiling  :  the  air  was  thick  with  tobacco 
smoke,  and  heavy  with  the  scent  of  gin  and 
water  and  coffee  ;  three  gas-burners  turned  fully 
on  and  blazing  merrily  without  globes  and  a  good 
fire  made  the  atmosphere  oppressively  warm. 

A  short  shabby  horse-hair  couch  dragged  up  to 
the  -fireplace  accommodated  two  people.  A  man 
in  an  old  fur-lined  coat,  used  apparently  as  an  im- 
provised dressing-gown,  sat  in  the  corner  of  it,  his 
elbow  resting  on  the  head,  and  the  cigarette  he  was 
absently  regarding  held  in  two  fingers;  a  girl  was 
seated  at  the  end  with  her  back  half  turned  to  him, 
and  her  feet  on  the  fender.  Another  man  sat  on 
the  table  swinging  his  legs  before  the  fire,  and 
stirring   the   contents    of  his    tumbler  with  a  tin 


PAULA  9 

dagger.  Two  girls  were  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hearth  making  the  same  tumble-down  chair  do  for 
them  both,  and  taking  alternate  sips  from  the  same 
glass.  Their  glaring  yellow  hair,  obviously  dyed, 
jarred  painfully  with  their  jet  black  eyebrows  and 
"  hair-pinned  "  eyes. 

"Charlie,  how  can  you?  I  know  I  shall  detest 
him  !  "  exclaimed  the  girl  on  the  end  of  the  sofa  in 
answer  to  the  remark  of  the  man  beside  her. 

Her  voice  was  singularly  distinct  and  clear,  and 
of  beautiful  timbre;  it  seemed  capable  of  an  infinity 
of  subtle  inflections.  She  turned  a  little  more 
round  as  she  spoke,  with  a  half  grimace  at  him  :  a 
red  fez  cap  was  on  her  head,  and  her  mass  of  light 
undyed  hair,  caught  together  by  a  single  hair-pin, 
fell  from  beneath  it  to  the  sofa  where  she  was 
sitting. 

"  A  man,"  she  continued,  knocking  off  the  ash  of 
her  cigarette  against  the  mantelpiece,  and  then 
holding  it  idly  between  her  white,  smooth,  and 
strangely  flexible  fingers,  "  who  does  nothing  but 
lounge  about  the  clubs,  and  drink  and  smoke ! 
Bah !  " 

There  was  such  aversion  in  her  tones  that  it 
produced  a  chorus  of  laughter :  the  young  man 
on  the  sofa  only  murmured,  "  I  never  said  he 
drank.  Halham  drinks  very  little,  and  I  didn't 
know  smoking  was  considered  a  crime  in  this 
establishment !  Wait  till  you  see  him  !"  he  added, 
and  watched  his  cigarette  smoke  absently. 


io  PAULA 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  him,"  remarked  the  girl 
lightly,  going  on  smoking.  Then  leaning  back 
again  towards  the  young  fellow  in  the  corner, 
and  showing  a  lovely  piece  of  white  neck 
where  the  rather  ragged  collar  of  her  dress 
fell  open,  "  Where  did  you  see  this  wonder  first, 
Charlie?" 

"  I  met  him  at  the  Art  Club,"  he  answered 
slowly,  "  and  we  had  something  to  drink " 

"Water?"  interjected  Paula,  with  a  side  glance 
over  her  shoulder. 

"  No,"  he  said  as  the  others  laughed ;  "  I  had 
brandy  and  soda,  and  he  had  hock  and  seltzer,  I 
believe." 

Paula  laughed  contemptuously,  and  took  a  fresh 
cigarette. 

"And  what  did  you  talk  about?"  she  asked — 
"  himself?  and  the  women  who  have  loved  him  and 
he  has  never  cared  about  ?  " 

"Oh  no;  art  and  literature,  and  music,  and  all 
sorts  of  things — he's  an  awfully  clever  fellow." 

"Art  and  literature!  Can  he  paint  a  picture  or 
write  a  book  ?  " 

"  No,  but "  returned  Charlie. 

"  He  criticises  people  who  can,"  put  in  Paula  ; 
"I  see." 

"  We  went  on  to  his  rooms  then,"  continued 
Charlie  quietly,  as  if  recalling  some  pleasant 
memory,  "  in  St.  James'  Street.  Such  jolly  rooms, 
and  he  has  a  glorious  piano — a  grand,  an  Erard — 


PAULA  ii 

and  he  plays,"  he  stopped  and  watched  the  smoke 
again. 

"Nice  rooms,  are  they?"  queried  the  man  on  the 
table.     "What's  the  rent,  I  wonder?  " 

"  What  sort  of  furniture  has  he  got,  eh,  Charlie  ?  " 
asked  the  woman  across  the  rug.  "  Has  he  got 
them  long  mirrors,  and  thick  carpets,  and  hormolu 
cabinets?  " 

"What  did  he  play?  "  demanded  Paula. 

"  I  don't  know  what  rent  he  pays — he  didn't 
inform  me,"  returned  Charlie,  dryly;  "and  I  didn't 
notice  the  furniture.  1  should  think  he  could  play 
anything.  He  is  a  wonderful  reader  at  sight. 
Chopin  and  Wagner  seem  to  be  his  favourites. 
He  played  a  polonaise  of  Chopin  beautifully." 

There  was  silence. 

Then  Paula  said,  "  Well,  what  is  he  like,  Charlie  ? 
go  on  with  his  catalogue  of  perfections." 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  describe  him,"  returned 
Charlie.  "  He  is  considered  very  handsome  ;  blue 
eyes,  and  black  hair,  and  a  white  complexion." 

"  Very  effeminate,"  remarked  Paula,  judicially. 

"  But  how  has  he  got  his  money,  that's  what  I 
should  like  to  know?"  said  the  man  on  the  table, 
swinging  his  legs  impatiently. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  very  clearly,"'  returned 
Charlie,  vaguely.  "  His  father  was  out  in  Australia 
a  long  time,  director  of  a  big  banking  concern 
there,  I  believe ;  then  he  died,  leaving  his  business 
and    tons   of   money    to   his   son,    who   has    been 


12  PAULA 

principally   engaged    seemingly   in    spending    the 
latter." 

Paula  made  no  remark — she  was  staring  into  the 
fire,  its  red  glow  fell  upon  her  face,  and  showed  a 
contemptuous  smile  cross  it  as  she  heard. 

"  I  do  believe  as  I've  seen  him,  Charlie,"  said 
one  of  the  women  with  the  discordant  yellow  hair, 
leaning  forward  and  speaking  excitedly  in  her 
hoarse  voice,  that  contrasted  so  strangely  with 
Paula's  clear  penetrating  musical  tones.  "  I  was 
passin'  Hatchard's,  them  booksellin'  people  I 
mean,  and  he  came  out.  '  Lor  !  '  I  thinks,  '  you 
are  a  good-lookin'  man ; '  that  waxy  skin  just  as 
you  say,  and  eyes  like  dark  cornflowers  with 
long  eyebrows  over  them,  just  as  if  they'd  been 
drawn  with  a  streak  of  brown  paint  He  looked 
about  twenty-five." 

"  Halham  is  twenty-nine,"  returned  Charlie. 
"  That  was  the  man,  I  daresay ;  he  is  constantly  in 
Hatchard's." 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  like  him,"  murmured 
Paula,  absorbed  in  puffing  her  cigarette,  and 
following  its  rising  blue  clouds  with  half-closed 
eyes. 

"You?  Very  likely  not.  You  don't  care  for 
anybody,  I  believe,  except  some  of  your  own 
creations  on  paper,"  Charlie  answered,  laughing. 
"You  are  just  a  sort  of  mechanical  arrangement  of 
bones,  etc.,  with  a  lamp  swinging  up  inside  you  for 
intellect,  and  a  solid   piece   of  agate   where  your 


PAULA  13 

heart  should  be.      You   don't    count    as    ordinary 
flesh  and  blood." 

In  the  middle  of  their  laughter  the  gas  began  to 
go  down.  Both  the  noisy  flaring  gas  jets  dwindled 
suddenly  to  blue  points  and  went  out,  leaving 
them  in  darkness  except  for  the  dull  glow  of  the 
fire  and  the  red  spots  of  their  cigarette  ends.  The 
man  heaved  himself  off  the  table  with  a  regretful 
sigh.  Charlie  turned  out  of  his  sofa  corner  and 
felt  in  his  pocket  for  lucifers. 

"  Nonsense  it  is,  turning  off  the  gas  !  "  exclaimed 
Paula,  as  she  groped  along  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Well,  we  must  be  going ;  come  on,  Liz,"  and 
the  two  women  got  out  of  the  big  arm-chair. 

"  Here  are  the  matches,"  said  Paula ;  "  but 
we've  no  candle,  have  we,  Charlie  ?  "  She  struck  a 
match  as  she  spoke.  In  the  candlesticks  on  the 
mantelpiece  there  was  some  charred  paper  which 
had  once  surrounded  the  candle,  but  nothing  of 
the  latter  remained.  "  I  must  light  you  downstairs 
with  these,"  said  Paula,  laughing,  throwing  the  first 
match  on  the  floor  and  lighting  another. 

"You'll  have  the  place  on  fire,  if  you're  not 
careful,"  muttered  Charlie,  putting  his  foot  on  it. 

"  Come  and  be  extinguisher,  then,"  laughed 
Paula  to  her  brother,  crossing  the  door  and  strik- 
ing a  bunch  of  matches  altogether  and  holding 
them  above  her  head.  They  sent  a  bright  yellow 
flame  flickering  down  the  stairs,  and  showed  the 
figures  moving  down  them. 


14  PAULA 

"  Good-night,"  she  said. 

Several  of  the  faces  were  turned  back  to  her. 
Her  own  looked  singularly  youthful,  gay,  and  un- 
troubled, as  the  match  light  struck  on  it  beneath 
the  red  fez  and  the  curling  light  hair. 

"  Good-night,"  they  answered. 

She  followed  them  out  to  the  head  of  the  stairs 
as  they  disappeared  down  them. 

"  Entertain  you  better  when  I  have  my  own  flat," 
she  called  laughingly  over  the  stairs. 

"  That  the  fellow  I  saw  you  with  on  Sunday  is 
going  to  set  you  up  in,"  returned  one  of  the  men. 
"All  right;  tell  him  to  look  sharp." 

Paula  nodded.  They  had  opened  the  street 
door ;  the  matches  burned  down  and  hurt  her 
fingers.  She  flung  them  on  the  ground,  and  went 
back  to  the  sitting-room. 

"  And  to  think  I  am  a  parson's  daughter,"  she 
murmured  amusedly  to  herself  in  the  dark. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  we  may  as  well  go  to  bed," 
she  said  to  her  brother,  "  as  there  are  no  candles, 
and  I've  pretty  well  used  up  the  matches." 

Charlie  was  already  raking  out  the  ashes  of  the 
grate. 

"  You  are  economical,"  she  said  derisively. 

"  Naturally ;  I  have  to  do  the  economy  for  us 
both,"  he  answered,  turning  round.  "  Good-night, 
dear."  He  kissed  her,  and  she  kissed  him  in  return, 
and  went  upstairs  to  her  own  little  room  at  the 
back  of  the  house  and  under  the  roof. 


PAULA  15 

As  she  entered  she  saw  she  had  a  more  regal 
light  to  undress  by  than  candles,  matches,  or  the 
lodging-house  gas  itself.  The  room  was  flooded 
with  moonlight.  The  blind  was  fully  up,  and  the 
light  poured  through  the  panes,  reproducing  the 
window  upon  the  floor.  Great  squares  of  white 
light  lay  on  the  boards,  traversed  by  a  huge 
black  cross  of  shadow  from  the  window-bars. 
Paula  stood  looking  up  at  the  sky,  in  delight  at  its 
white  glory,  and  the  black  cross  fell  upon  her  face 
and  on  to  her  bosom  as  she  stood  there.  Then  she 
turned  with  a  yawn,  slipped  off  all  her  clothes 
together,  and  got  into  bed,  leaving  the  blind  up. 

In  a  few  moments  she  was  asleep :  wrapped  in 
a  deep,  soundless,  dreamless  sleep.  As  the  night 
wore  on,  slowly  the  light  crept  round,  and  at  last 
it  blazed  all  across  the  face,  neck,  and  bosom  of 
the  sleeper,  the  white  patch  spread  till  it  covered 
all  but  the  little  feet,  and  these  remained  in  thick 
blackness.  The  moonlight  rested  on  her.  It  was 
palely  divine  ;  she  was  deliciously  human.  It  lay 
on  her,  and  touched  the  mist  of  yellow  hair  upon 
the  pillow,  the  warm  red  lips,  the  solid  whiteness 
of  the  full  throat,  the  plentiful  white  arm  thrown 
above  her  head,  the  long  form  that  lay  so  easily 
and  peacefully  beneath  the  thin  coverlet :  it  tried 
to  render  all  these  ideal  and  ethereal,  but  it  seemed 
a  thing  apart.  Paula  lay  under  the  moonlight, 
warm  flesh  and  blood  pulsating  under  its  ghostly 
touches,  deliciously  womanly,  delightfully  human  : 


16  PAULA 

a  thing  made  for  sorrow  and  suffering,  pain  and  sin 
and  death.  Predestined  to  all  of  these,  and  con- 
scious it  was  so  predestined,  and  yet  looking  out 
upon  life  joyously,  innocently.  None  of  them  had 
approached  her  at  present.  Her  life  had  been  as 
clear  as  the  moonlight  lying  across  her  face;  it 
might  be  taken  to  symbolise  her  past  path  through 
life,  as  the  black  shadows  enveloping  her  feet 
might  stand  for  the  thick  mud  of  sorrows  and 
passions  in  the  track  of  her  future.  And  on  her 
brow  and  breast  lay  the  cross,  the  great  cross  she 
would  have  to  bear  that  is  common  to  all  flesh — 
the  cross  of  human  desires. 

The  daughter  of  a  parson,  she  had  said  ;  and  it 
was  true.  For  twenty  years  Paula  had  lived  a  life 
of  study  and  cloister-like  quiet  in  a  Suffolk  rectory. 
Her  father  had  taught  both  her  and  her  brother, 
and  brought  them  both  up  in  an  impracticable  way: 
to  think,  to  feel,  to  reason,  to  understand,  which 
are  all  merely  branches  of  the  great  art  to  suffer, 
to  write  and  read  in  several  languages,  to  love 
classics,  art,  and  culture,  and  to  be  quite  ignorant 
of  what  common-sense  people  call  "anything 
useful." 

Put  this  education,  which  is  so  fatal  to  those 
same  common-sense  people,  is  exactly  that  most 
calculated  to  develop  any  of  those  gifts  granted 
and  held  by  Divine  favour  only.  Paula's  sensitive 
brain,  excited  by  classical  literature,  trained  and 
strengthened  by  Greek  studies,  and  allowed  long 


PAULA  i; 

intervals  in  which  to  lie  fallow,  while  she  simply 
lay  and  dreamed  and  thought  in  Suffolk  fields,  or 
wandered  through  Suffolk  lanes,  turned  slowly  and 
steadily  to  creative  work. 

The  Rector  would  read  his  sermons  to  Paula — 
sermons  far  too  ornate  for  the  ignorant  poor  to 
gain  much  benefit  from,  and  as  full  of  classical 
quotations  and  allusions  as  scriptural  texts  ;  and 
Paula  would  read  little  scenes  from  dramas  and 
plays  of  her  own  writing  in  return,  and  each 
would  appreciate  the  other — for  the  daughter's 
brain  was  but  a  strengthened,  concentrated  replica 
of  her  father's. 

And  when  the  Rector  died,  leaving  his  two 
children  absolutely  unprovided  for  as  it  seemed, 
they  each  had  really  a  great  legacy  from  him — 
minds  filled  with  the  slow,  rich,  easy  culture  of 
years  of  thought  and  reflection  and  study,  and 
the  secluded  companionship  of  a  cultivated  mind. 
Neither  had  been  to  school  ;  both  had  missed 
that  disadvantage,  and  the  degrading  horror  of 
examinations  and  cramming.  At  the  Rectory 
there  had  been  no  "  Society,"  and  their  life  had 
mixed  little  with  that  of  their  fellow-creatures. 

Paula  at  twenty  knew  nothing  of  all  those  small 
jealousies  and  petty  rivalries,  flirtations,  intrigues, 
little  miseries,  and  trifling  pleasures  and  triumphs, 
in  which  most  girls  are  at  that  age  so  well  versed. 
She  had  lived  apart  from  her  fellows,  and  her  life 
had  been  broad  and  large  and  tranquil ;  calm  and 

2 


i8  PAULA 

grave,  filled  with  study,  and  brightened  with  the 
warm  affection  of  the  two  men  who  loved  her. 
Fear,  malice,  vanity,  envy,  jealousy,  and  hate  were 
all  unknown  emotions  to  her.  Her  mind  had 
developed,  buoyant,  free,  untrammelled,  determined 
to  live  its  own  life  and  hold  its  own  views,  inde- 
pendent of  others,  interfering  with  none  and 
suffering  no  interference.  Generous,  sympathetic 
and  sensitive,  filled  with  ardent  impulses  and  a 
superabundance  of  vitality,  with  no  actual  experi- 
ence, and  a  brain  excited  by  stores  of  theoretical 
knowledge,  she  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  world's 
battle-ground,  admirably  equipped  to  suffer — a 
most  tempting  prey  for  the  prowling  passions  of 
life. 

"  You  must  go  out  as  a  governess,"  had  said 
Paula's  maiden  aunt  on  the  Rector's  death. 

"Really?"  had  laughed  Paula;  and  six  months 
later  had  seen  her  and  her  brother  installed  in 
Lisle  Street.  She  was  earning  eighteen  shillings 
a  week  at  one  of  the  big  theatres,  he  about  thirty 
shillings  by  giving  lessons  in  music  and  an  occa- 
sional orchestral  engagement.  Eighteen  shillings 
a  week  is  very  little,  and  Paula  longed  to  get  on  in 
her  profession.  But  to  get  on  seemed  even  more 
difficult  than  to  make  the  start.  Two  years  were 
now  completed  and  she  had  not  risen  the  least 
little  bit  Twenty-two  years  of  age  now,  and  still 
only  a  supernumerary,  to  stand  on  the  boards 
towards  the  back  of  the   scene,    swing  a  basket 


PAULA  19 

backwards   and    forwards,    and   join    in    a    chorus 
about  "  Happy  Springtide." 

Paula  rebelled  against  her  position  every  day  of 
her  life,  but,  in  spite  of  outward  discouragement, 
there  rose  continually  within  her,  like  the  sap  in 
the  plant,  a  happy  confident  courage.  She  felt  a 
certainty,  a  positive  prescience  of  future  greatness 
some  day,  just  as  Jeanne  d'Arc  foresaw  the  siege 
of  Orleans  while  still  tending  her  sheep  on  the 
hillside. 

She  had  written  a  complete  play  since  she  had 
been  in  London,  and  on  looking  at  the  finished 
work  she  saw  that  it  was  good.  To  get  this  play 
produced  and  herself  given  the  principal  part  in  it, 
was  the  desire  that  haunted  her  night  and  day ; 
but  to  attain  this,  in  fact  all  between  the  desire 
itself  and  the  fulfilment  of  it  remained  a  blank. 
It  seemed  hugely  possible  and  infinitely  impossible 
at  the  same  time.  Whilst  reading  it  in  her  own 
room,  stung  by  a  sense  of  its  merits,  it  seemed  as  if 
such  a  work  could  not  and  would  not  in  the  nature 
of  things  remain  always  dead  to  the  world.  Out 
in  the  streets,  on  her  way  to  the  theatre,  it  seemed 
hopeless  to  suppose  any  one  would  accept  the  pro- 
duction of  an  inexperienced  little  super,  who 
walked  to  the  stage -door,  and  wore  a  black  stuff 
dress.  She  had  found  an  opportunity  to  beg  the 
manager  of  the  theatre  where  she  was  employed  to 
look  over  it.  He  had  promised  to  do  so,  and  when 
he    received  it,  kept  it  for  three  months.     At  the 


20  PAULA 

end  of  that  time,  in  answer  to  an  urgent  appeal 
from  her,  it  had  been  returned.  Paula  opened  the 
parcel  and  turned  to  the  middle  of  the  play.  The 
two  principal  pages  in  it,  containing  the  key  to 
the  whole,  remained  sewn  together  as  she  had 
sent  them.  After  this  check,  Paula  being  merely 
an  artist,  and  not  having  one  respectable  business 
instinct  in  her,  let  the  play  lie  unused  on  a  shelf, 
while  she  wondered  vaguely  if  there  was  any  way 
in  which  you  could  compel  a  manager  to  read  a 
play. 

The  days  slipped  by,  and  Paula  lived  on  from 
one  to  the  other,  filled  with  a  vague,  restless  dis- 
satisfaction whenever  a  chance  word  happened 
to  stir  those  passions  of  vanity,  ambition,  and 
the  appetite  for  life  which  lay  deep  down  in  her 
nature  under  her  superficial  indolence,  like  cobras 
curled  under  a  blanket. 

After  a  time,  the  moon  had  travelled  beyond 
the  edge  of  her  narrow  little  window  ;  the  last 
beam  of  light  retreated  reluctantly,  as  if  loath  to 
leave  the  warm,  lovely  thing  it  had  illumined,  and 
the  unconscious  sleeper  lay  there  swathed  now 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  blackness  like  the  black- 
ness of  death. 


II 


It  was  between  three  and  four  the  following 
afternoon,  and  a  thick  yellow  curtain  of  fog  was 
dropping  heavily  over  Leicester  Square  and  shut- 
ting out  the  light  from  the  dingy  houses  in  Lisle 
Street.  A  clock  had  just  chimed  the  half-hour, 
when  Charlie  Heywood,  with  his  collar  turned  up 
and  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  came  briskly 
round  the  corner  of  Leicester  Street,  walked  up  to 
his  door,  let  himself  in,  and  rushed  up  the  dark 
uneven  stairs.  "  He's  coming  round ! "  he  said 
breathlessly,  bursting  into  the  little  sitting-room, 
where  Paula  was  lying  on  the  couch  at  her  ease, 
with  her  knees  drawn  up,  reading  a  yellow-backed 
French  novel  by  the  light  of  the  huge  fire  that 
flamed  up  the  chimney  and  illumined  the  whole 
room. 

She  was  smoking,  as  these  were  her  luxurious 
days  when  she  was  in  an  engagement,  and  as  she 
earned  so  she  spent.  Paula  would  never  save. 
"Saving,"    she    would    say,    "makes    all    your  life 

alike.     When  you  have  no  money,  you  are  hard- 
21 


22  PAULA 

up  because  you  have  none ;  and  when  you  have 
money,  you  are  hard-up  because  you  are  saving," 
and  she  eschewed  it  as  a  bad  habit. 

She  looked  round  as  Charlie  entered.  Her  hair 
was  down  as  last  night,  and  the  fez  cap  sat  on 
her  light  curls ;  a  warm  glow  was  on  her  pale 
skin  ;  she  looked  the  personification  of  ease  and 
comfort. 

"  Who's  coming  ?  "  she  asked  in  some  surnrise. 

"  Why,  Vincent.  I  met  him  just  now  in  Picca- 
dilly— he  was  going  to  his  place.  He  asked  me  if 
you  were  in,  and  I  said  '  yes,'  and  he  said  he  would 
come  round  to  see  you  in  about  half-an-hour." 

"Very  good  of  him,  I'm  sure,"  returned  Paula 
with  a  yawn,  closing  the  book.  "  All  the  same, 
I  wish  he  hadn't.  Why  didn't  you  say  I  was 
engaged,  or  something?" 

"Why?    You  don't  mind  meeting  him,  surely?" 

"  No,"  answered  Paula  slowly;  "only  it's  rather 
a  nuisance." 

This  last  was  a  favourite  phrase  of  hers.  Natur- 
ally idle  and  lazy,  it  was  only  when  stung  by  her 
ambition  or  desires,  both  terribly  keen  and  strong 
when  aroused,  that  she  cared  to  exert  herself  at 
all.  All  the  ordinary  small  concerns  of  life,  for 
the  majority  of  people  so  full  of  interest,  were  to 
Paula  "rather  a  nuisance." 

"Well,  I  should  have  thought  that  when  we 
have  to  mix  with  so  many  vile  common  people, 
it  would  have  been  a  relief  to  know  some  one  in 


PAULA  2 


j 


our  own  rank,"  replied  Charlie,  taking  off  his 
overcoat  and  hat. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Paula  from  her  sofa ;  "  only 
probably  he  won't  consider  us  his  equals,  and 
that's  uncomfortable." 

"  He  knows  a  crood  deal  about  us,  because  I  told 
him,"  he  returned,  going  over  to  one  of  the  small 
cupboards  by  the  fireplace.  "  And  as  to  what  we 
are  doing  now,  and  our  having  no  money,  he 
won't  think  anything  of  that — he  is  not  the  sort 
of  fellow." 

Charlie  had  extracted  a  small  metal  teapot  from 
the  cupboard,  and  some  cups,  and  was  setting 
them  on  the  table.  He  paused  to  take  the 
matches  from  his  pocket  and  light  up  the  gas. 
When  he  had  done  so,  he  stood  looking  at  the 
girl  on  the  sofa. 

"Oughtn't  you  to  do  up  your  hair?"  he  said 
doubtfully. 

Paula's  eyes  opened  wide,  and  she  raised  her 
eyebrows.  "  I  ?  No,  I  shan't  bother  !  He  must 
take  me  as  I  am.  I  don't  care  a  straw  what  he 
thinks ;  besides,"  she  added  quickly,  seeing  her 
brother  looked  hurt,  "  he'll  probably  like  this  better. 
At  the  Duchess  of  So-and-so's,  where  he'll  dine 
to-night,  all  the  hairs  will  be  done  up.  I  at  any 
rate  shall  make  a  change." 

Charlie  laughed  as  he  glanced  over  her.  Perhaps 
she  was  right ;  certainly  she  looked  artistic  and 
picturesque  as  she  was,  with  her  tiny  feet  in  their 


24  PAULA 

turncd-up  Persian  slippers,  the  straight  simple 
skirt  that  showed  every  line  of  the  wonderful 
figure,  the  short  Zouave  jacket,  and  the  fez  on  her 
curling  hair.  He  put  the  kettle  on,  and  continued 
arranging  the  table.  When  that  was  done  he 
turned  his  attention  to  the  room  in  general, 
putting  some  books  straight  on  a  shelf  in  the 
wall,  folding  up  loose  newspapers,  and  altering 
the  positions  of  the  chairs.  Paula  watched  him 
with  her  hands  behind  her  head  and  derision  in 
her  eyes. 

"What  is  the  use  of  tidying  the  room?"  she 
asked.  "  Why  not  let  him  see  it  just  as  it  usually 
is?  One  day  he  is  sure  to  come  unexpectedly,  and 
then  he'll  get  a  shock." 

"  No  pretence  "  was  Paula's  motto  in  everything. 
"  It  gives  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  only  gets 
you  despised,"  she  thought,  and  she  never  practised 
it  in  anything.  She  was  clever,  gifted,  and,  like 
most  clever  people,  supremely  contemptuous  of  the 
opinions  of  others  ;  yet  in  spite  of,  perhaps  because 
of,  this  she  was  popular. 

Charlie  continued  arranging  the  room  to  his 
satisfaction  in  silence.  By  the  time  he  had  finished 
the  kettle  boiled,  and  he  lifted  it  to  one  side  of  the 
grate.  "  I'll  go  and  wash  my  hands  now,"  he  said. 
"  We  must  wait  for  tea  till  he  comes." 

"  Must  we?  "  returned  Paula.  "  I  hope  he  won't 
be  long  then." 

Charlie  went  out  of  the  room,  and  Paula  opened 


PAULA  25 

her  book  again  and  settled  herself  lower  in  the 
couch. 

It  was  only  a  few  minutes  later  that  a  knock 
came  at  the  door  in  the  street  below,  and  after  an 
interval  the  sound  of  a  light  elastic  step  upon  the 
stairs,  a  pause  outside,  and  then  a  knock.  "  Come 
in,"  said  Paula,  and  the  subject  of  the  previous 
night's  conversation  entered. 

A  tall,  smartly-cut  figure  buttoned  into  a  slim, 
fashionable  frock-coat,  a  rather  long  neck  encircled 
by  its  high  white  collar,  and  a  pale  oval  face  above 
with  a  charming  smile  on  it,  were  the  things  that 
struck  her  as  she  rose  from  the  sofa  and  advanced 
to  meet  him.  The  most  distinctive  thing  about 
Halham's  general  appearance  was  the  air  he  had  of 
belonging  to  the  leisured,  well-bred,  moneyed  class. 
Meeting  him  haphazard  anywhere,  in  any  dress, 
you  would  still  think  he  belonged  to  the  rank  of 
idle,  well-turned-out  men,  who  lounge  from  one  of 
their  fashionable  clubs  to  their  rooms  for  exercise, 
and  never  walk  farther  than  the  length  of  Bond 
Street. 

He  took  her  little  soft  hand  in  his,  and  said  so 
gently  and  with  such  a  soft  voice,  that  it  sounded 
almost  affectionate,  "  I  feel  I  know  you  already. 
I've  seen  you  so  many  times,  I  should  recognise 
you  directly  anywhere." 

"  Would  you  ?"  said  Paula,  raising  her  eyes  to  his 
face.  They  were  very  sweet  eyes,  and  just  now  full 
of  a  soft  admiration.    "But  mine's  such  a  little  part." 


26  PAULA 

They  walked  slowly  over  to  the  hearth,  the  fire- 
light glinting  on  his  half-patent  boots,  the  Parma 
violets  in  his  button-hole,  and  the  gloss  of  his 
delicate  shirt-cuff. 

"  Will  you  have  this  chair?"  she  said,  indicating 
the  old  leather  one,  and  feeling  sorry  its  springs 
would  show  in  such  lumps. 

He  did  not  seem  to  notice  it,  and  sat  down. 

She  took  the  end  of  the  sofa  herself,  thinking 
how  graceful  his  figure  looked  in  the  chair  and 
how  charming  his  face  was.  It  was  pale  and 
closely  shaven,  with  level,  tranquil  eyebrows.  The 
dark  blue  eyes  beneath  had  a  peculiar  calmness, 
and  the  whole  expression  of  the  face  was  one  of 
gay,  untroubled  serenity.  It  was  a  striking,  at- 
tractive countenance,  and  Paula's  eyes  drew  a  keen 
pleasure  from  it.  All  her  preconceived  antipathy 
melted  away.  She  did  instant  justice  to  his 
singular  good  looks.  All  her  artistic  instincts 
seemed  suddenly  to  quicken  and  have  fresh  life 
as  she  looked  at  him.  And  these  were  at  present 
the  only  ones  she  was  conscious  of.  A  handsome 
face  was  to  her  as  a  fine  painting,  a  beautiful 
statue,  a  line  of  poetry,  or  a  strain  of  music,  and 
she  looked  on  a  man's  with  the  same  cold  admira- 
tion as  she  would  have  looked  upon  a  woman's.  In 
these  moments,  as  Vincent  drew  his  chair  a  little 
closer  to  hers  and  smilingly  made  commonplace 
remarks,  no  vague  prescience,  no  prophetic  shadow 
fell  across  the  calm  surface  of  Paula's  brain. 


PAULA  27 

There  is  a  favourite  tradition  that  when  the 
human  being  stands  before  a  crisis  in  his  fate, 
some  warning  sense,  some  foreshadowing  of  it  fills 
his  mind.  It  may  be  so  sometimes,  generally  it  is 
the  reverse.  He  faces  all  sorts  of  strange  situa- 
tions, is  thrown  against  striking  personalities,  and 
is  filled  with  curious  wonder  and  presentiments 
concerning  their  effect  on  his  future ;  they  pass, 
leaving  him  untouched,  and  they  and  his  warning 
voice  are  forgotten  together.  Then,  in  a  careless 
calm,  some  little  trivial  incident  drifts  up  to  him 
on  the  sea  of  circumstance — he  thinks  and  feels 
nothing  about  it,  no  sense  of  danger  even  faintly 
approaches  him,  and  then  suddenly  he  finds  his 
life's  tragedy  upon  him,  it  is  all  played  out  and 
over,  past  and  gone  by.  It  has  happened.  All 
that  he  expected,  anticipated,  thought  possible,  on 
other  occasions,  has  crashed  in  upon  him  when 
he  expected  nothing,  anticipated  nothing,  and 
thought  nothing  possible.  If  he  survives  the 
tragedy,  it  leaves  him  with  his  faith  in  omens  sadly 
shattered.  Paula,  now  side  by  side  with  the 
incarnate  presentiment  of  all  her  future  pleasure 
and  misery,  hardly  a  yard  of  space  between  them, 
let  her  eyes  rest  carelessly  upon  him  and  recog- 
nised nothing  except  that  it  was  a  graceful, 
pleasing  presence. 

"  I  believe  you  smoke  ?  "  she  said  interrogatively, 
with  a  half  motion  to  offer  him  her  cigarette  case. 
It  was  a  very  pretty  one,  chased  silver,  and  with 


23  PAULA 

her  name  in  looped  letters  engraved  across  it.  It 
had  the  air  of  a  gift,  as  had  the  gold  bracelet  on 
the  white  wrist  that  stretched  up  for  it  to  the 
mantelpiece. 

"  I  do,  although  I  find  my  nerves  sufficiently 
bad  without  it,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "  I'll  have 
a  cigarette  with  you,  if  you  like." 

"I'd  better  not  lead  you  into  temptation,  per- 
haps," returned  Paula,  laughing. 

Vincent  looked  at  the  dazzling  white  teeth,  the 
soft  face  with  its  blue  eyes  and  buff-coloured  hair 
beside  him. 

"  I  hope  you  won't,"  he  said,  laughing  too.  "  I 
am  afraid  I  should  follow  rather  easily." 

At  that  minute  Charlie  came  into  the  room. 

"  What  are  you  two  laughing  at?"  he  said,  in 
rather  a  surprised  tone.  "  I  heard  you  in  my  room 
upstairs." 

"We  were  on  a  very  serious  topic,"  remarked 
Paula.  "  Mr.  Halham  was  lamenting  the  entire 
lack  of  moral  strength  in  his  character." 

"  Halham  ?  "  replied  Charlie,  coming  over  to  the 
hearth  and  raising  his  eyebrows.  "  Why,  you  have 
immense  strength,  immense  force  of  will,  immense 
influence  over  others  !  " 

"  Dear  me  !  "  murmured  Vincent,  leaning  back  in 
his  chair  and  looking  up  at  Charlie's  enthusiastic 
face  with  a  smile.  "  I  didn't  know  I  was  so  im- 
mense altogether." 

Paula  watched   him  with  interested   eyes.     His 


PAULA  29 

face  had  a  singularly  sweet  expression,  and  it  was 
this  that  charmed  her  more  than  the  regularity  of 
the  features.  There  was  not  a  single  conceited, 
sensual,  nor  cynical  line  in  the  whole  countenance. 

"  Yes,  your  influence  over  others  makes  you 
quite  dangerous,"  continued  Charlie  jestingly,  as 
he  began  making  the  tea.  "  You  are  the  sort  of 
person  one  would  break  all  the  ten  command- 
ments for,  if  it  were  necessary." 

"Really?"  laughed  Vincent;  "how  very  inter- 
esting !  I  should  be  sorry  to  smash  up  the  whole 
ten,  though  I  think  there  are  a  few  too  many." 

"  Too  many  ?  "  repeated  Paula,  raising  her  eye- 
brows and  looking  at  him  with  reflected  laughter 
in  her  eyes.  "  Why,  I  wish  there  were  twenty  ! 
Commandments  were  given  us  for  the  fun  of 
breaking  them  ! " 

Vincent  looked  curiously  at  the  soft  youth  of 
her  face  and  the  gay,  passionate  eyes. 

"  Oh !  Well,  I  had  not  studied  them  from  that 
point.  Is  that  your  view,  Charlie?"  he  said, 
taking  the  cup  of  tea  offered  him  and  stirring  it 
reflectively. 

"  No,"  returned  Charlie,  with  compressed  lips  ; 
"  I  think  they  make  dangerous  and  uninteresting 
toys." 

"  I  think  that  has  been  rather  mine  hitherto, 
but  I  am  sure  your  sister  could  convert  me." 

"  Oh,  I  haven't  the  spirit  of  a  reformer  in  the 
least,"   asserted    Paula,   still  jesting.       "  My   creed 


30  PAULA 

is,  '  Do  and  say  anything  you  please,  only  let 
your  neighbour  alone.'  " 

"  The  only  disadvantage  of  that  plan,"  remarked 
Charlie,  "  is  that  it  gives  your  neighbour  a  lot  of 
spare  time,  which  he  generously  uses  up  in  inter- 
fering with  you.  I  found  this  parcel  downstairs, 
Paula,  addressed  to  you,"  he  added,  handing 
her  behind  Vincent's  head  a  square  parcel  in 
tissue. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Vincent,  turning  round,  "  I  sent 
you  in  a  box  of  sugared  violets.  I  believe  you  like 
sweets." 

"  How  did  you  know  that?  "  asked  Paula,  laugh- 
ing, as  she  took  the  box  from  her  brother  and  drew 
off  its  tissue  wrapping,  disclosing  a  round  Parisian 
bon-bon  box  of  an  exquisite  violet  tint,  tied  across 
with  pale  ribbons,  and  with  a  wreath  of  violets 
painted  on  the  lid. 

"  Oh,  I  divined  the  abstruse  fact  by  some  occult 
science,"  said  Vincent,  laughing,  watching  her  with 
pleasure  as  she  opened  the  lid  and  revealed  the 
compartments  of  the  box  filled  with  the  perfect 
natural  flowers  delicately  crystallised  and  preserved 
in  all  their  natural  colour  and  beauty. 

"  How  lovely  !  Thank  you  so  much  !  "  she  said, 
with  a  little  pleased  flush,  looking  at  him  over  the 
open  box,  while  the  delicate  perfume  rose  from  it 
and  filled  the  room.  "  Are  they  not  a  beautiful 
colour?" 

"Very,"  returned    Vincent,  smiling,  and   adding 


PAULA  31 

mentally,  "exactly  like  your  eyes."  "Have  you 
ever  tasted  them  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  Well,  try  now." 

"  Will  you  have  any  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks  ;  I  prefer  some  of  your  more  sub- 
stantial biscuits." 

Paula  filled  the  little  sugar-tongs  sent  in  the 
box  with  the  flowers,  and  ate  them  reflectively  in 
silence.  She  was  silent  so  long  that  Vincent  and 
her  brother  both  laughed,  and  asked  her  what  she 
was  thinking  of. 

"Well,  the  extraordinary  confusion  of  sense  that 
they  produce,"  she  said;  "they  taste  exactly  as 
violets  smell,  but  how  can  one  sense  be  translated 
into  another  like  that  ?     I  don't  see." 

"  Oh,  I  think  that  is  a  fairly  common  thing," 
answered  Vincent,  "the  interchange  or  confusion  of 
two  senses.  Some  of  them  are  interchangeable,  taste 
and  smell  noticeably  so,  and  all  are  more  or  less. 
It  very  much  enhances  the  pleasure  of  any  sense 
when  you  can  double  it  with  another — focus,  as  it 
were,  two  senses  on  any  particular  point  that  is 
supposed  to  appeal  only  to  one." 

Paula  gazed  at  him  with  wide  interested  eyes. 

"  But  I  don't  understand  at  all  what  you  mean 
practically,"  she  said  at  last;  "I  can  follow  it  in  a 
way,  but  how  does  it  act  ?  " 

"  It  is  difficult  to  explain,"  said  Vincent,  quietly, 
with  a  slight  flush,  "but  you  have  the  proof  of  what 


32  PAULA 

I  say  in  the  flowers  you  arc  eating :  you  can  only 
describe  the  taste  of  them  by  saying  it  is  the  scent 
of  violets;  but  a  scent  has  no  taste — you  cannot 
taste  a  scent  except  by  the  translation  or  the  con- 
fusion of  the  two  senses." 

"  Are  you  familiar  with  what  he  means,  Charlie?" 
asked  Paula. 

"  No,  but  I  have  a  dim  idea  of  it.  I  should  think 
that  there  is  not  much  in  it,  except  for  those  people 
whose  senses  are  peculiarly  keen." 

"  That's  very  crushing,  Charlie,"  said  Vincent, 
laughing,  and  holding  out  his  cup  to  be  refilled. 
"  I  never  said  there  was  '  much  in  it.'  I  started 
by  saying  it  was  a  fairly  common  thing;  and  there 
is  no  doubt  of  the  intense  enjoyment  of  a  double 
sense.  Sight  and  touch  will  double  with  each 
other  sometimes.  For  instance,  I  mean  you  can 
sometimes  think  you  see  the  softness  and  smooth- 
ness of  a  thing,  but  you  can't  really  see  these — they 
are  things  that  appeal  only  to  the  touch ;  in  point 
of  fact,  your  sense  of  sight  has  doubled  or  confused 
itself  with  that  of  touch — you  are  practically  feel- 
ing it  as  your  eyes  rest  upon  it,  though  you  have 
no  contact  with  it.  You  can  back  up  four  senses 
one  behind  the  other  sometimes  in  this  way,  in- 
tensifying your  sight,  say,  with  three  others.  Sound, 
again,  translates  itself  into  touch  quite  easily, 
witness  Wagner's  music,  where  some  of  the  sounds 
appeal  wholly  to  the  sense  of  touch,  rather  than 
to  the  ear." 


PAULA  33 

He  was  speaking  to  Charlie  and  slightly  turned 
towards  him,  and  Paula,  listening,  with  her  eyes 
resting  on  the  thick  waves  of  his  black  hair  as 
he  leaned  his  head  on  the  chair  just  where  the 
full  stream  of  light  from  the  gas  jets  fell  on  it, 
received  suddenly  a  clue  to  his  meaning.  For  the 
moment  she  felt  the  glossy  softness  of  the  hair 
under  the  sensitive  nerve-centres  of  her  finger- 
tips. A  shiver  of  awakening  sense  seemed  to  pass 
through  her.  She  closed  the  box  of  violets  with 
a  laugh. 

"  I  know  more  now  than  when  I  becan  to  eat," 
she  said  lightly.  "  That  box  has  been  quite  like 
the  apple  of  Eve.  I  feel  just  as  she  must  have 
done  with  her  newly-acquired  knowledge." 

"  Have  a  cigar,  Vincent  ?  "  said  Charlie  ;  "  let's 
try  our  doubled  senses  on  that !  " 

"No,"  said  Vincent,  turning  to  Paula;  "your 
sister  promised  me  a  cigarette." 

"Yes;  try  this — it's  my  own  make,"  she  said, 
offering  him  the  case. 

"  Really  ?  "  asked  Vincent,  taking  one.  "  How 
perfectly  you've  made  it !  I  couldn't  believe  it 
wasn't  machine-made.  So  many  gifts,"  he  added 
softly,  "  and  cigarette-making  in  addition.  How 
I  envy  you  !  " 

"  I  don't  think  one  should  ever  be  envied  for 
one's  gifts,"  returned  Paula,  gravely — "  they  arc  a 
handicap  on  life." 

Vincent  made  no  answer.     Charlie  gave  him  a 

3 


34  PAULA 

light  and  settled  down  to  his  own  cigar  in  the  chair 
opposite. 

"  I  should  like  to  study  physiology,"  she  said 
after  a  minute;  "  all  that  you  said  about  the  senses 
interests  me  immensely." 

"Haven't  you  ever?"  asked  Vincent;  "I  think  it 
is  the  most  useful,  the  most  important  thing  to 
know  thoroughly.  If  we  have  been  given  nothing 
but  our  physical  organism  to  rely  upon,  we  ought 
to  understand  that,  and  all  its  laws  and  powers, 
perfectly.     Don't  you  think  so?  " 

"Yes,"  returned  Paula,  mechanically.  She  had 
a  curious  feeling  of  not  thinking  for  herself  at  that 
moment,  but  merely  floating  forward  on  his  stream 
of  opinion  and  judgment.     "  I  know  nothing  of  it." 

"  You  know  so  much  of  everything  else,"  returned 
Vincent  caressingly,  "  perhaps  it  doesn't  matter 
in  your  case;  but,  as  a  general  rule,  ignorance  of 
this  one  thing  is  the  cause  of  endless  mistakes  in 
our  own  life,  and  endless  wrong  judgment  of  other 
people.  Besides,  unless  you  are  a  religionist, 
which  I  know  you  are  not,"  he  said,  smiling, 
"and  neither  am  I,  it  is  the  basis  of  everything. 
All  the  character,  the  gifts,  all  the  vices  and 
virtues  and  powers,  are  the  toys  of  the  blood  and 
the  brain." 

"Yes,"  said  Paula  softly  again,  without  looking 
at  him. 

"Well,  isn't  it  best  to  know  something  of  the 
material  of  the  toys  one  is  going  to  play  with?"  he 


PAULA  35 

asked  very  gently,  looking  at  the  pretty  fair  head, 
from  which  she  had  taken  the  fez,  and  which  was 
bent  a  little  now  as  she  gazed  seriously  into  the 
fire.  "  See  how  a  child  is  told  that  the  penknife 
will  cut  him  if  he  does  not  respect  it,  and  the 
painted  horse  must  not  be  sucked,  as  the  paint  is 
poisonous.  It  is  just  the  same  in  the  great  game  of 
life." 

"  I  say,  Vincent,"  expostulated  Charlie  from  his 
chair,  "  you'll  make  us  think  we  are  back  at  the 
Rectory." 

Vincent  laughed. 

"  I  ought  to  be  back  at  my  rooms,"  he  said, 
drawing  out  his  watch,  "so  we  must  defer  the 
remainder  of  the  service  ;  but  I  do  hope  I  shall  see 
you  again  soon.  We  ought  to  see  each  other 
sometimes,  we  are  living  so  close  together." 

He  got  up.  Paula  handed  him  his  cigarette 
case,  which  he  had  laid  down  beside  her.  He  took 
it  from  her,  his  hand  interlacing  her  soft  warm 
fingers  as  he  did  so. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said  :  enly  that  one  word,  but 
Paula  flushed  suddenly,  with  pleasure  rather  than 
confusion,  under  his  eyes,  and  felt  almost  as  if  she 
had  been  kissed  on  the  neck  or  cheek;  the  sound  in 
itself  was  a  caress,  and  translated  itself,  as  he  had 
said  sound  could,  into  a  touch. 

She  murmured  her  "  Good-bye,"  and  sat  down 
again. 

"  Charlie,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  disturb  yourself," 


Z6  PAULA 

Halham  said  as  the  former  got  up  from  his  chair  to 
accompany  him  to  the  door. 

When  the  two  men  had  gone  out  of  the  room, 
Paula  lay  back  on  the  couch — one  arm  round  her 
box  of  sugared  violets — staring  up  at  the  ceiling. 
Long  after  it  was  destined  that,  lying  in  this 
same  attitude,  this  scene  should  return  to  her 
brain,  and  his  jesting  warning  of  the  physiological 
side  of  life.  Then  she  knew  at  last  the  truth  of  it; 
now  the  theory  of  the  transmutation  and  doubling 
of  sense  interested  her  much  more,  and  she  lay 
thinking  of  it,  and  eating  the  mysterious  violets  at 
intervals. 

Vincent  stepped  into  Lisle  Street  and  com- 
menced to  walk  quickly  in  the  direction  of  St. 
James'  Street.  He  had  one  of  the  cigarettes  the 
girl  had  given  him  in  his  lips,  and  he  looked 
pleased,  as  if  he  had  spent  an  agreeable  hour,  which 
he  had.  Quite  a  pleasant  hour  in  that  tiny,  grimy 
room.  Vincent  always  did  manage  to  put  in 
pleasant  hours  all  over  his  day.  He  was  really 
highly  accomplished  in  the  difficult  art  of  enjoying 
himself  without  his  pleasure  being  at  anybody's 
expense.  He  always  lived  life  to  its  full :  absorb- 
ing all  the  pleasure  it  offered,  freely,  light-heartedly, 
and  reining  himself  in  with  an  iron  will  at  the  point 
where  excess  begins.  He  was  so  accustomed  to 
pleasure  that  the  sudden  possession  of  it  at  any 
moment  had  no  power  to  intoxicate  him  as  with 
those  unfortunate  beings  whom  long  self-restraint 


PAULA  2>7 

has  ruined.  For  the  few  years  before  his  father's 
death  he  had  known  little  but  life's  enjoyment : 
they  had  been  brilliant  and  filled  with  gaiety,  and 
in  them  had  been  founded  the  basis  of  the  bright, 
hopeful,  courageous  temperament  and  the  well- 
balanced  mind  that  he  possessed. 

Suppression  and  restraint  always  damages  a 
character,  in  the  same  way  as  it  damages  the  body. 
In  many  cases  it  may  be  inevitable  and  necessary, 
but  it  should  only  be  regarded  as  a  remedy,  never 
as  a  treatment.  Both  mentally  and  physically 
restraint  is  generally  the  parent  of  excess  at  some 
future  date,  and  suppression  is  usually  the  nurse  of 
deformity.  A  limb  or  muscle  of  the  body  if  re- 
strained from  its  natural  exercise,  atrophies;  if 
totally  bound  up  and  debarred  from  use,  it  becomes 
deformed  :  and  the  human  character  too  far  re- 
pressed, from  any  cause,  inevitably  deteriorates, 
twisting  itself  into  distorted  lines,  becoming  mis- 
anthropic, hard,  selfish,  narrow-viewed,  or  immo- 
derate, as  environment  favours. 

The  only  son  of  a  wealthy  Australian  banker, 
who  after  his  wife's  death  had  concentrated  the 
whole  of  his  affection  in  the  handsome  boy  left 
him,  Vincent  had  been  sent  to  England  and 
educated  at  Eton  and  Oxford  :  at  both  these,  with 
the  happy  knack,  which  never  after  left  him,  of 
doing  the  best  work  or  accepting  the  best  pleasure 
life  offered  in  the  moment,  he  worked  hard,  loved 
and  enjoyed  the  work  while  it  lasted,  and  left  the 


33  PAULA 


3 


University  with  honours  at  twenty-one,  to  begin 
the  real  lessons  of  life.  In  the  three  years  of 
pleasure  that  followed  he  learned  much ;  they 
taught  him  the'  joy  and  the  beauty  of  life,  the 
worth  of  human  effort,  and  engrained  in  his  mind 
the  healthy  ardent  love  of  existence.  For  the  last 
four  years,  however,  since  his  father's  sudden 
death,  he  had  been  face  to  face  with  the  work 
and  difficulties  that  his  father's  large  capital  and 
extensive  speculations  carried  with  them.  As  he 
often  said  laughingly  to  his  friends,  he  had  enjoyed 
himself  far  more  on  his  allowance  than  he  had 
done  since  he  had  had  the  responsibility  of  his 
own  fortune  and  income.  He  had  none  of  his 
father's  love  for  business  and  money-making. 
However,  since  a  certain  amount  of  attention  to 
these  matters  was  inevitable,  he  accepted  his 
position  with  smiling  philosophy  and  transacted 
his  affairs  as  well  as  a  man  can  whose  heart  is  not 
in  his  work. 

Those  last  four  years  in  Sydney  had  been  spent 
in  occupations  which  went  hard  against  the  grain 
of  his  nature,  and  in  his  anxiety  to  do  justice  to 
the  responsible  position  he  found  himself  in  he 
worked  harder  and  worried  himself  even  more 
than  was  necessary.  Each  year  the  strain  upon 
him  seemed  to  increase,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
fourth  his  doctor  ordered  him  peremptorily  to 
England  for  change  of  occupation  as  much  as 
change  of  air.     And  now  he  had  been  a  year  in 


PAULA  39 

London,  and  actually  a  whole  year,  as  he  had 
laughingly  told  young  Heyvvood,  "  without  any 
objects  of  affection " — the  friendship  he  had 
struck  up  with  the  boy  at  the.  Art  Club  being 
the  warmest  feeling  he  possessed  for  anybody  at 
the  present  minute. 

Vincent  was  fond  of  women,  and  liked  their 
society,  but  they  were  not  by  any  means  indispens- 
able to  him.  In  fact,  he  regarded  them  altogether 
very  much  as  he  did  flowers, as  sweet,  delightful,  orna- 
mental things,  charming  to  have  about  one's  rooms, 
to  see  and  to  enjoy,  and  to  have  gently  and  quietly 
removed  when  faded  or  withered.  Not  that  he 
was  brutal,  or  cruel,  or  heartless;  he  was  the  reverse 
of  all  these,  and  treated  every  woman  with  con- 
sideration and  kindness,  because  that  was  the  first 
way  that  occurred  to  him.  Only  he  always  looked 
quite  practically  at  things;  and  when  a  woman 
ceased  to  be  attractive  or  pleasure-giving,  from 
any  cause,  her  place  was  no  longer  beside  men, 
that  was  all.  On  this  account  he  hated  the  idea 
of  marriage.  Fancy  marriage  in  youth  !  Why,  at 
forty  he  would  not  want  a  wife  of  forty — taste  and 
discrimination  does  not  decline  with  years — he 
would  still  prefer  the  beauty  of  twenty.  Not  that 
he  always  objected  to  other  people's  wives,  though 
they  were  forty. 

But  though  without  a  touch  of  sentiment, 
Vincent's  nature  was  essentially  kind.  He  hated 
to  see  pain    inflicted,  hated    inflicting  it   himself. 


4o  TAULA 

Egotistic  to  a  certain  extent  he  undoubtedly  was, 
but  in  thinking  of  himself  first  he  always  allowed 
his  neighbour  to  come  in  a  good  second.  He 
was  not  in  the  least  cynical.  He  was  as  far 
removed  from  a  cynic  as  he  was  from  a  senti- 
mentalist, being  in  the  simplest  sense  of  the  term 
a  materialist,  and  having  the  bright,  philosophic, 
frank  outlook  of  one  upon  life  and  his  fellow 
human  beings.  He  could  not  imagine  any  human 
powers  apart  from  human  matter,  and  the  belief  he 
denied  to  the  soul  he  placed  in  the  body.  He 
loved  that,  respected  its  powers,  and  sympathised 
with  and  understood  its  failings.  This  was  the 
root  of  his  kindliness  to  women,  perhaps,  and  of  his 
general  philosophy. 

The  man  who  is  a  materialist  and  philosopher  is 
rarely  unkind.  There  is  little  that  he  comes  across 
in  others  that  can  upset  his  equanimity.  No  being 
can  be  more  cruel  than  the  sentimentalist  if 
wounded  in  his  sentiment,  and  in  this  life  there 
is  so  much  to  shock  and  wreck  it.  Equally  the 
cynic  is  cruel  in  his  way,  with  his  wearisome  and 
monotonous  disbelief  of  the  obviously  good  and 
beautiful. 

Halham's  gay,  light-hearted  materialism  led  him 
for  the  most  part  to  a  generous  belief  in  the  good 
qualities  of  those  about  him.  If  these  were  dis- 
proved, he  faced  the  discovery  with  philosophic 
indulgence.  The  absence  of  any  great  or  certain 
expectations  from  humanity   saved  him   from   the 


PAULA  41 

bitterness  and  harshness  of  the  disappointed  senti- 
mentalist. 

A  skilled  doctor,  from  a  physical  examination, 
can  read  accurately  a  man's  mental  or  moral 
character.  The  disposition  is  far  more  a  question 
of  physique  than  ordinary  people  ever  realise.  No 
man  is  held  morally  accountable  for  the  shape  of 
his  nose,  yet,  as  a  physician  can  distinctly  prove, 
innate  cowardice,  or  nearly  any  other  so-called 
moral  quality,  is  really  as  much  a  physiological 
matter  as  nasal  symmetry.  Vincent's  physician  was 
perhaps  the  man  who  really  knew  his  character 
best.  The  energy  of  the  heart-beats  alone  was 
enough  to  reveal  to  him  the  nervous,  excitable 
temperament.  Of  his  many  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances there  was  not  one  who  knew  much  of  his 
disposition  or  his  life. 

His  extreme  reticence  and  reserve,  coupled  with 
the  refinement  and  intellectuality  of  his  face,  gained 
for  him  the  reputation  of  greater  virtue  than  he 
deserved.  Not  that  he  wished  to  establish  any 
reputation.  He  was  absolutely  indifferent  to  what 
others  thought  or  said  of  him,  provided  they  were 
polite  and  amiable  in  his  presence.  If  they  chaffed 
him  upon  being  moral  he  smiled  pleasantly,  if  they 
taxed  him  with  being  immoral  he  smiled  just  as 
pleasantly,  and  no  one  felt  any  the  wiser.  But  if 
his  conventional  virtue  was  perhaps  over-estimated, 
his  natural  innate  generosity  and  worth  of  character 
was  probably  underrated. 


42  FAULA 

Turning  into  Piccadilly  a  short,  elderly,  red- 
faced  man  almost  ran  against  him.  Vincent  raised 
his  hat,  recognising  Lord  Weston,  one  of  his 
friends. 

"  Oh,  Vincent,  there  you  are !  I'm  delighted. 
Have  you  got  time  to  come  round  to  the  Club  for 
a  game  of  billiards  ? "  asked  the  other  as  they 
shook  hands. 

Vincent  looked  at  his  watch.  "  I  am  afraid  I 
hardly  have,"  he  answered  ;  "  I've  only  just  time  to 
get  back  to  my  rooms  and  dress  before  dinner  at 
the  Westcott's.     I'm  sorry." 

"Oh,  well,  another  day  then.  I'll  walk  back 
with  you  just  as  far  as  your  place.  By  the  way, 
how  is  your  business  getting  on  ?  " 

"Well,"  returned  Vincent,  "  my  affairs  are  getting 
horribly  mixed  up.  Do  you  know,  I  shall  have  to 
go  out  again  shortly." 

"  No,  don't  say  that.  We  don't  want  to 
part  with  you.  Why  don't  you  put  in  better 
managers  ?  " 

"Can't  tell  how  it  is,"  returned  Vincent;  "as 
soon  as  I  am  away,  everything  seems  to  go  to  the 
dogs.     I  low  are  your  coals  going  ?  " 

Lord  Weston  was  the  owner  of  an  extensive 
coal  property  in  Ashby-de-la-Zouche,  and,  unlike 
Vincent,  a  pronounced  pessimist. 

"  As  bad  as  can  be,"  he  answered  gloomily ; 
"  I'm  not  getting  over  a  thousand  a  month  now : 
perpetual  worry  too,  and  work.      At  my  age  it's 


PAULA  43 

too  bad.  I  often  feel  inclined  to  blow  my  brains 
out ;   I  do  indeed." 

They  had  reached  Vincent's  house  by  this  time, 
and  he  paused,  looking  at  his  friend  with  a  smile. 

"  What  an  idea,  Weston  !  Life  is  always  worth 
having,  and  work  makes  the  worth  of  it ;  I've  found 
one  can  stand  a  good  deal." 

"  It's  all  very  well,"  grumbled  back  the  other, 
"  but  you  look  fairly  fagged  out  at  times.  But  it's 
no  use  advising  you — you  go  on  just  the  same." 

Vincent  laughed.  "  That's  not  work,  perhaps. 
Good-bye." 

"  You  dine  with  us  the  day  after  to-morrow, 
remember."     And  they  parted. 

As  Vincent  went  up  to  his  flat  he  quite  believed 
from  his  feelings  that  Weston  might  be  right  in 
saying  he  looked  fagged  out,  and  when  he  entered 
his  drawing-room  he  did  not  pass  through  it  and 
go  at  once  to  dress,  but  dropped  into  an  arm-chair 
with  a  sense  of  fatigue.  The  cold  had  been  sharp 
outside,  and  as  he  sat  there,  there  seemed  a  faint, 
peculiar,  barely  perceptible  bluish  tinge  on  the 
clear  pallor  of  his  face,  or  perhaps  it  was  only 
the  reflection  from  the  torquoisc-shaded  lamps. 


Ill 


The  following  evening  was  dry  and  starlight:  a 
strong  wind  swept  the  streets,  but  it  had  veered  to 
the  north-west,  and  was  violent  rather  than  cold.  At 
five-and-twenty  to  twelve  Paula  was  coming  down 
the  passage  slowly  to  the  stage-door,  buttoning  her 
gloves.  Two  or  three  of  the  actors  and  a  girl 
belonging  to  the  chorus  stood  at  the  door  talking, 
and  two  men  were  just  in  front  of  her,  settling 
themselves  into  their  overcoats. 

Paula,  looking  up  as  she  finished  the  last  button, 
saw  a  tall  figure  in  an  overcoat,  with  a  white  silk 
handkerchief  round  the  throat,  suddenly  appear 
amongst  the  others,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
crush  hat  over  the  bowlers  and  silks.  It  was 
Halham's.  He  came  in  at  the  door,  slipped  past 
the  group,  that  was  too  much  engrossed  in  itself  to 
take  much  notice  of  him,  and  came  up  to  her  with 
a  smile.  She  glanced  up  and  smiled  too.  She 
felt  so  pleased  to  see  him,  and  the  pleasure  lighted 
up  all  her  face.  She  looked  very  charming  and 
quite  well-dressed,  in  spite  of  the  old  black  skirt 

41 


PAULA  45 

she  was  wearing.  She  had  a  smart  velvet  cape  of 
the  latest  fashion,  and  a  large,  wide-brimmed  hat, 
from  beneath  which  the  youthful  face  and  sweet 
eyes  looked  up  at  him,  sparkling  with  animation. 

"You  were  not  at  the  theatre  to-night,"  she  said, 
as  she  put  her  hand  in  his;  "I  know,  because  I 
looked  for  you." 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  that's  why  I've  come  to 
see  you  now.  I  thought  you  would  let  me  escort 
you  home,  perhaps." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Paula  impulsively;  "  I 
should  have  liked  it  immensely,  but  I  can't.  I'm 
engaged  to  somebody  else  to-night." 

"Oh,  that  settles  it  then,"  returned  Vincent, 
the  least  shade  of  disappointment  crossing  his 
face. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  repeated  Paula  anxiously,  and 
looking  up  appealingly  as  if  entreating  him  not  to 
be  angry  with  her  for  refusing.  Vincent,  who  was 
accustomed  to  girls  cutting  their  dances  for  him 
and  always  despised  them  for  doing  so,  liked  her 
for  not  offering  to  break  her  engagement,  liked  her 
too  for  the  evident  disappointment  it  was  to  her  to 
keep  it. 

"You  can't  help  it,"  he  answered  quietly.  "  If 
you  have  made  a  promise  you  must  keep  it." 

Paula  still  looked  distressed,  and  her  eyes  were 
fixed  anxiously  on  his  face. 

She  knew  the  second  violinist,  who  was  £oinf  to 
see  her  home,  very  well :  they  were  great  friends. 


46  PAULA 

He  liked  her  in  an  unselfish,  devoted  sort  of  way, 
and  she  knew  if  she  asked  him  to  excuse  her  for 
that  night,  he  would  do  so  directly.  It  was  a  great 
temptation  :  she  felt  a  sudden  impetuous  desire  to 
walk  back  with  Vincent;  his  pale  face  looked  very 
charming  and  the  dark  blue  eyes  very  kind;  when 
he  had  come  specially  for  her  too !  and  she  and 
Johnson  could  go  home  together  every  night. 
Should  she  speak  to  him  ?  But  no,  it  would  hurt 
his  feelings,  and  simply  because  he  was  always 
friendly  and  faithful,  was  he  to  have  no  con- 
sideration ?  It  was  a  mean  idea,  and  she  rejected 
it. 

"  I  am  so  sorry !  You  can't  think,"  she  said 
again. 

Vincent  looked  at  her  with  some  amusement. 
"  I'll  come  to-morrow  night,  if  I  can,"  he  said  ;  "  I 
can't  promise,  I  mayn't  be  able  to,  but  I'll  try. 
This  is  your  friend,  I  think,"  he  added,  as  a  little 
man  with  a  violin  case  approached  them,  peering 
hard  at  Vincent  through  his  spectacles.  "  Good 
night,  dear." 

He  pressed  her  hand,  lifted  his  hat,  smiled  down 
into  her  upraised  disappointed  face,  and  was  gone 
without  further  hesitation. 

"  Dear  me,  I'm  very  sorry  to  have  kept  you 
waiting,"  said  Johnson  fussily,  coming  up  to  her. 

"  Oh,  it  doesn't  matter,"  replied  Paula  gently, 
and  they  walked  down  the  passage  and  squeezed 
past  the  chattering  group  that  had  swelled  by  this 


PAULA  47 

time  and  filled  up  the  doorway.  She  was  just  as 
nice  as  usual  to  the  little  violinist  as  they  walked 
back  through  the  wind-swept  streets,  but  he  thought 
her  conversation  a  little  abstracted  ;  and  no  wonder, 
since  she  kept  asking  herself  over  and  over  again, 
"Was  he  offended,  I  wonder?"  It  was  only  when 
she  had  said  good-night  to  Johnson,  and  was 
finding  her  way  up  the  narrow  staircase,  that  it 
flashed  upon  her  it  was  the  first  time  she  had  cared 
a  straw  whether  a  man  were  offended  or  not. 

All  the  next  day  she  thought  about  Vincent  in 
a  restless  sort  of  way,  and  looked  forward  with 
keen  pleasure  to  the  evening.  When  it  came,  it 
brought  disappointment.  It  was  wet,  and  she 
waited  in  vain  for  Vincent ;  he  did  not  come. 
Paula  would  not  wait  long  for  anybody,  and  after  ten 
minutes  of  acute  longing  to  see  him,  vexation,  and 
disappointment,  she  went  home  with  an  uninterest- 
ing super,  Johnson  having  left  the  theatre  early 
as  soon  as  he  learnt  she  was  engaged.  When  she 
came  in,  her  brother  noticed  her  white  disappointed 
face  at  once. 

"  Will  you  take  a  note  to  the  post  for  me, 
Charlie?"  was  the  first  thing  she  said,  tearing 
off  her  gloves. 

"  Yes,  dear,  of  course,"  he  returned  in  some 
surprise,  looking  up  from  a  "  Goss's  Harmony" 
he  was  studying. 

Paula  sat  down  in  her  hat  and  cloak  and  wrote 
to  Vincent : — 


48  PAULA 

"Dear  Mr.  Ilalham, —  I  waited  for  you  this 
evening  at  the  theatre,  but  you  did  not  come.  I 
was  so  disappointed.  Were  you  offended  with  me 
last  night  ?  Please  let  me  hear  from  you  or  see 
you  soon. — Yours  sincerely,  Paula  Heywood." 

Charlie  took  the  note  without  comment  When 
he  came  back  Paula  seemed  nearly  in  her  usual 
spirits.  She  had  swept  his  Harmony  aside,  and 
was  busy  making  him  a  cup  of  coffee  over  the 
fire. 

The  next  day  about  three  o'clock,  when  she 
was  lying  indolently  on  the  couch,  yawning  as 
she  watched  two  winter  flies  circling  round  the 
blackened  gasalier,  and  feeling  too  sleepy  either  to 
read  or  smoke,  a  letter  was  flung  in  at  her  sitting- 
room  door.  Paula  bounded  off  the  sofa  and  across 
the  room,  divining  whom  the  note  was  from.  She 
picked  it  up  and  carried  it  back  with  her  to  the 
couch,  as  a  tiger  docs  its  pet  bone.  She  scanned 
the  outside  critically,  and  looked  long  at  the  firm, 
distinguished  writing  which  seemed  to  speak  of 
the  elastic  wrist  and  hand  that  had  executed  it. 
Then  she  broke  it  open  and  read  :  — 

"Dear  Miss  Heywood, —  I  have  just  got  your 
note.  I  was  dining  out  last  night,  and  could  not 
reach  the  theatre  in  time.  I  am  sorry  for  your 
disappointment.  You  were  perfectly  right  to  keep 
your  engagement  the  previous  evening.  I  should 
have  been  very  sorry  if  you  had  done  otherwise. 


PAULA  49 

Will  you  come  and  have  tea  with  me  this  after- 
noon, or  would  you  prefer  mc  to  come  and  see 
you? — Yours  sincerely,  Vincent  Ilalham." 

Without  a  trace  of  fatigue  or  indolence  now,  in 
face  or  figure,  Paula  sprang  from  the  sofa  and  ran 
upstairs.  She  went  into  Charlie's  room,  where  he 
was  dressing  to  go  out  to  a  pupil. 

"Shall  I  go?"  she  said,  giving  him  the  letter. 
"  Of  course,  I  suppose  it's  not  quite  correct  to  go 
to  his  rooms ;  but  it's  more  fun,  and  makes  more 
change  than  his  coming  here.     Does  it  matter  ?  " 

Charlie  was  in  the  agonies  of  fastening  a  very 
stiff  collar  with  a  very  weak  pin  before  the  glass, 
and  waited  to  get  it  right  before  replying. 

"  No,  it  isn't  correct,  and  you  couldn't  do  it  with 
heaps  of  men,"  he  said  at  last,  drawing  on  his 
coat.  "  But  Halham  is  so  extremely  nice  in  every 
way  to  women,  I  think  you  can  go  to  him  if 
you  want  to.  There's  only  one  danger,"  he 
added,  "  in  your  intimacy  with  him." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  Paula,  with  smiling  eyes. 

"  That  you  will  get  too  fond  of  him.  Vincent  is 
a  man  most  women  find  irresistible  if  he  lays  him- 
self out  to  please  them,  and  he  seems  to  have 
taken  a  fancy  to  you.  He  is  a  most  charming 
fellow,  and  his  society's  delightful ;  and  if  you  can 
look  upon  him  merely  as  a  friend  and  interested 
companion,  it's  all  right  ;  but  I  warn  you — he  isn't 
a  marrying  man." 


50  PAULA 

"  No,"  said  Paula  slowly,  and  with  a  cloud 
coming  over  her  face,  and  a  sadness  into  her  eyes, 
"  and  of  course  he  would  never  marry  me  in  my 
present  position." 

"Vincent  will  never  marry  at  all,"  returned 
Charlie  decisively.  "  He  is  much  too  fickle 
and  impatient  of  restraint:  he  is  just  a  seeker 
after  his  own  pleasure,  and  takes  nothing  very 
seriously.  Some  people,  I  suppose,  would  slang 
him  for  his  morals  very  much.  I  don't.  I  don't 
believe  he's  ever  been  brutal  or  cruel  to  a 
woman." 

Paula  did  not  answer  at  all :  she  stood  and 
watched  him  finishing  his  dressing  with  absent 
eyes,  tossing  the  tassel  of  the  window-blind  to  and 
fro  in  her  hands. 

"  Well,  good-bye,  dear,"  said  Charlie,  as  he  was 
preparing  to  leave  the  room ;  "  go  and  amuse  your- 
self, only  don't  fall  in  love  with  him." 

He  went  out,  and  Paula  walked  into  her  own 
room.  When,  about  an  hour  later,  she  walked  up 
the  stairs  to  Vincent's  flat,  she  looked  a  very  striking 
and  attractive  figure,  all  in  black,  with  a  narrow, 
high  white  satin  collar  round  her  neck,  and  her 
light  hair  twisted  up  into  the  fashionable  nceud  dc 
Diane,  under  the  smart  velvet  hat  Finding  the 
outer  door  of  his  flat  open,  she  passed  through  and 
knocked  at  the  inner  one. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  voice,  and  she  entered. 
Vincent  was  sitting  at  an  escritoire  in  the  window, 


PAULA  51 

writing.  He  got  up  as  she  came  in  and  advanced 
to  meet  her.  Paula,  looking  up  into  his  face,  noted 
that  he  looked  older  than  she  had  seen  him  do  yet. 
The  pallor  of  his  face  was  more  pronounced,  and 
there  were  blue  shades  about  the  eyes.  He  looked 
tired  and  listless — almost  painfully  so. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  could  come,"  he  said  gently, 
in  his  quiet  voice,  as  they  walked  over  to  the  hearth 
together. 

Something  in  the  grace  of  his  figure,  the  ease  of 
his  walk,  or  possibly  in  the  expression  of  his  face, 
appealed  to  Paula's  quick  eyes,  and  filled  her  with 
pleasure.  Her  face  lighted  with  radiant  anima- 
tion, her  lips  parted  in  a  sweet  little  smile  as  she 
thanked  him  for  the  chair  he  wheeled  forward 
for  her.  To  Paula  to  be  in  the  society  of  any 
one  she  admired,  and  who,  she  knew,  admired  her, 
and  whom  she  was  anxious  to  please,  was  as  it  is 
to  the  plant  to  be  in  the  sunlight.  She  seemed  to 
glow  and  expand  with  new  life  as  the  plant  does. 
Fresh  colour  was  lent  to  the  soft  skin,  an  extra 
sweetness  to  the  eyes,  an  added  unconscious  grace 
to  each  movement.  Vincent's  presence  now  drew 
out  all  the  charm  of  her  responsive  nature. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  disturbed  you,"  she  said, 
glancing  towards  the  table  where  he  had  been 
writing,  and  on  which  were  tossed  masses  of  loose 
letters  and  papers. 

"  It  is  a  delightful  interruption,"  he  said,  throwing 
himself  into  the  chair  opposite  her,  his  face  already 


52  PAULA 

beginning  to  recover  its  customary  gaiety  and 
colour  in  her  presence.  "  I  get  so  tired  of  per- 
petually worrying  over  business." 

"What  beautiful  rooms  you  have  here!"  said 
Paula,  looking  round  with  soft  admiration  from  the 
depths  of  the  deep  purple  velvet  lounge  he  had 
given  her.  It  did  not  sound  a  vulgar  or  bonrgeoise 
remark  as  she  said  it.  It  had  nothing  of  the  gaping 
awe  of  a  school-girl  in  it,  nor  of  the  appraising 
instinct  of  the  parvenu.  It  was  just  the  unaffected 
expression  of  her  sense  of  beauty,  whether  in 
upholstery,  or  features,  or  landscape. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  Vincent  said,  a  smile  of 
pleasure  crossing  his  face.  "  I'm  so  glad.  I  fur- 
nished them  entirely  after  my  own  ideas." 

It  was  a  beautiful  room  they  were  in,  and  full  of 
characteristics  of  the  man  who  used  it.  It  was 
very  large  and  lofty,  and  the  walls  hung  and  draped 
after  the  modern  fashion,  not  merely  papered. 
The  hangings  were  in  a  sort  of  yellow  or  dead-leaf 
coloured  satin,  that  formed  an  exquisite  harmony 
with  the  deep  purple,  grape-hued  velvet  of  some  of 
the  chairs  and  lounges.  The  mantelpiece  was  of 
the  snowiest  marble,  and  the  heavy,  worked  bronzed 
fender,  resting  on  the  Persian  rug,  was  in  itself  a 
work  of  art.  A  grand  Erard  stood  across  one 
corner,  not  far  from  the  long  windows,  also  deeply 
draped  in  velvets  blending  the  dead-leaf  and  purple 
tints  of  the  rest  of  the  hangings,  and  a  great 
number  of  exquisite    water-colours   and   sketches 


PAULA  53 

stood  on  easels  and  tables  in  retired  nooks  through- 
out the  room.  The  carpet  seemed  to  have  been 
specially  designed  to  accord  with  the  rest,  leaves 
in  varying  shades  of  brown  and  bronze  and  gold 
drifted  in  loose  wreaths  over  a  snowy  ground. 
Everywhere  stood  cases  of  books,  and  these  rivalled 
in  number  the  statuettes  of  bronze  and  marble. 
The  red  firelight  leapt  amongst  them  now,  warming 
them  almost  to  life,  and  threw  long  shadows  from 
the  palms  that  stood  here  and  there,  looking  as  if 
they  had  just  come  from  the  hothouse  in  their 
fresh  and  vivid  green.  Some  white  flowers  also, 
though  it  was  December,  stood  in  a  vase  close  to 
where  he  had  been  writing.  At  the  far  end  of 
the  room  there  were  the  doors  into  his  bedroom, 
closed  now,  and  with  heavy  curtains  drawn  across 
them. 

Entering  first,  and  glancing  round,  one  would 
have  wondered  whether  the  occupier  were  student 
or  artist,  or  poet  or  musician,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  was  by  profession  and  to  the  world  none 
of  these.  Study,  and  painting,  and  music  were 
merely  his  tastes  as  a  dilettante,  but  they  were 
nevertheless  the  loves  and  companions  of  his  life; 
certainly  not  exclusive  of  human  ones,  but  as  cer- 
tainly supplementary  to  them.  As  Paula's  eyes 
took  in  the  wealth  and  comfort  round  her,  she 
wondered  with  an  amused  smile  what  this  man 
had  felt  in  entering  her  little  dingy  room,  with 
its  tumbledown  furniture  and  grimy  ceiling. 


54  PAULA 

"  What  are  you  smiling  at  ? "  he  said,  smiling 
himself. 

"  I  was  comparing  this  with  our  place,"  she  said 
lightly. 

"  I  have  often  lived  in  a  place  as  simple  as  yours 
is  now,"  he  answered  quietly. 

Paula  burst  into  a  little  gay  laugh.  "Simple" 
is  such  a  convenient  adjective  to  apply  to  other 
people's  belongings,  when  dirty  and  squalid,  and 
common  and  cheap  is  the  description  they  deserve. 

"May  I  give  you  a  cup  of  tea  now?"  Vincent 
asked,  getting  up.     "  I  always  make  it  myself." 

Paula,  leaning  taick  in  her  chair,  watched  him  as 
he  moved  a  wicker  tripod  forward  and  lighted  the 
spirit  under  the  swinging  copper  kettle. 

"  This  is  a  very  pretty  figure,"  she  said,  leaning 
towards  a  tiny  table  where  an  ivory  statuette, 
about  a  foot  high,  stood  alone.  It  was  the  nude 
figure  of  a  woman. 

"  Yes,  it's  a  lovely  thing,"  Vincent  said,  pausing 
a  moment  with  the  cup  in  his  hand.  "  There  is 
nothing,  I  think,  in  all  the  world  so  absolutely 
beautiful  as  the  beautiful  form  of  a  woman,"  he 
added,  as  he  handed  her  her  cup,  and  lifted  his 
own  from  the  table  and  sat  down  with  it. 

r.iuki  took  the  cup  in  silence,  her  eyebrows  a 
trifle  contracted.  "  Do  you  think  so?"  she  said 
slowly,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  delicate  and  charming 
image;  "I  don't.  I  think  it  is  merely  the  asso- 
ciation of  ideas.      There   are   other   things    more 


PAULA  55 

beautiful,  but  because  this  is  so  connected  with  the 
idea  of  pleasure,  we  put  it  first.  From  long  habit, 
the  ideas  of  beauty  and  pleasure  have  grown  con- 
fused, and  whatever  an  object  may  lack  of  the  first 
if  we  can  fill  up  the  place  with  the  second,  we  make 
no  distinction,  but  just  call  the  whole  beautiful." 

Vincent  raised  his  level  eyebrows  a  little  at  this, 
and  gazed  at  her  in  silence  with  his  serious,  re- 
flective eyes.  Paula  looking  from  the  ivory  figure 
met  his  meditative  gaze  regarding  her. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of?  "  she  asked  quickly, 
with  a  brilliant  smile. 

"  Of  what  you  have  just  said,"  he  answered 
quietly;  "  I  have  never  thought  of  it  in  that  way. 
Perhaps  you  are  right." 

"Well,  if  a  woman  had  no  connection  with  love 
and  joy  and  life,  but  were  only  kept  for  food  say, 
as  sheep  are,  nobody  would  think  her  particularly 
beautiful,"  returned  Paula  lightly,  balancing  the 
spoon  on  the  edge  of  her  teacup. 

Vincent  was  silent. 

"The  truth  of  things,"  she  went  on  after  a 
minute,  "  seems  to  me  often  to  lie  buried  not  at  the 
bottom  of  a  well,  but  beneath  a  mass  of  ideas  that 
pass  current  for  it.  People  make  use  of  the  ideas 
just  as  they  are,  tangled  up  with  one  another, 
without  ever  troubling  to  sort  them  out  and  see 
that  each  one  keeps  its  own  meaning.  The  ideas 
of  beauty  and  happiness  have  got  so  hopelessly 
mixed  now,  nobody  would  ever  differentiate  them." 


56  PAULA 

"  Who  taught  you  to  sort  out  your  ideas  ?  "  said 
Vincent  gently,  looking  at  her  with  amusement. 

"Plato,  I  think,  chiefly.  As  a  child  I  had  to 
read  page  upon  page,  and  not  only  translate  it, 
you  know,  but  also  wrestle  out  his  meaning. 
Then  he  is  so  utterly  a  sophist  that  when  I  had 
thoroughly  grasped  his  argument,  I  used  to  con- 
struct my  own  to  combat  his — I  used  as  it  were 
to  feel  for  the  truth,  and  keep  to  it  in  my  own 
mind.  If  you  don't  do  that  in  reading  Plato,  you 
must  be  misled,  because  he  never  sought  to  be 
true,  only  to  be  brilliant." 

Vincent  felt  a  strange  sensation  as  suddenly, 
after  an  utter  absence  of  many  years,  there  rushed 
back  upon  him  the  remembrance  of  his  own 
studies,  his  own  ardour  and  love  in  his  Oxford  days 
for  the  classics,  their  charm  and  their  mystery. 
The  long  quiet  nights  given  up  to  reading  the 
language  of  the  dead  and  the  past  in  which  every 
man  can  find  his  own  present  and  his  own  future, 
for  Life  holds  nothing  in  the  emotions  of  man 
that  the  ancients  have  not  recorded. 

"  Have  you  read  much  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  touch 
of  envy  wafted  over  his  years  of  life  and  work  from 
his  student  days. 

"Yes,  a  good  deal.     I   used    to   read    a    whole 

author  at  a  time,  en  bloc"  she  answered,  laughing 

htly,  with   a  sort  of  glee  as    a   child    recounts 

how    many    sweets    it    has    eaten.       "  I     read    all 

Euripides  in  two  months,  and  all  Aristophanes  in 


PAULA  57 

three  weeks,  and  so  on.  Sophocles  in  one  week, 
one  play  every  day:  he  is  very  easy  and  sweet. 
But  I  seldom  read  now.  The  charm  has  gone  out 
of  it.  The  desire  has  been  stilled.  It  is  funny," 
she  added,  looking  away  from  him  to  the  fire, 
"  how  the  three  epochs  of  our  life  are  marked  by 
three  crazes.  All  people  seem  to  have  them  more 
or  less.  In  one's  childhood  one  has  a  craze  for  toys, 
concrete  little  objects  to  play  with  ;  then  in  one's 
youth  that  dies  utterly,  and  one  has  the  craze  for 
knowledge,  words  and  thoughts  for  the  mind  to 
play  with  ;  and  then  that  dies  away  too,  com- 
pletely, and  one  gets  the  last,  and  generally  fatal 
craze,  for  life  itself,  and  other  human  beings  to 
play  with." 

Vincent  gazed  at  her  curiously,  while  his 
neglected  tea  grew  cold   in  the  cup. 

"You  must  know  an  immense  deal  about  life 
already,  since  you  have  read  so  much,"  he  remarked 
after  a  pause. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  glancing  at  him  quickly,  "so  I 
do,  theoretically.  I  have  been  studying  the  face  of 
life  in  a  mirror,  but  it  is  only  that,  don't  you  see? 
I  know  only  the  reflection.  I  have  not  met  life 
yet  face  to  face  to  know  her.  I  have  never  clasped 
her  hand,  never  laid  my  heart  on  her  heart,  never 
looked  into  her  eyes." 

"That  is  all  to  come,"  he  answered  gently;  "I 
only  hope  the  eyes  will  smile  when  you  look  into 
them." 


58  PAULA 

Paula  laughed.  "  How  frightfully  seriously  we 
have  been  talking!  Plato  is  nothing  to  it.  What 
are  those  I  see  up  there?  Cigarettes?  I  thought 
you  said  you  ought  not  to  smoke." 

Vincent  laughed  and  got  up.  He  took  the 
unopened  box  of  cigarettes  from  the  mantelpiece, 
cut  it  open,  and  handed  it  to  her.  "  Quite  so  ;  but 
perhaps  I  do  it  all  the  more  on  that  account. 
These  I  got  specially  for  you  ;  but  they  are  very 
strong.  Dimitrino's.  I  don't  know  whether  you 
will  like  them." 

She  stretched  out  one  of  her  hands,  from  which 
she  had  drawn  the  glove,  and  he  watched  with 
pleasure  the  smooth  fingers  listlessly  extract  a 
cigarette,  as  she  looked  at  him  smiling. 

"  If  they  are  excessively  strong,  I  am  sure  to  like 
them,"  she  said  jestingly.  "Pleasure  begins  where 
moderation  ends." 

Vincent  laughed,  and  struck  a  match  for  her. 
"  That  might  mean,  excess  only  appears  where 
pleasure  is  exhausted." 

"Very  likely,"  she  said  lightly;  "you  probably 
know.  My  own  acquaintance  with  pleasure  is  not 
extensive  nor  intimate." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  she 
smoked  in  a  delicate  pretty  way,  and  he  watched 
her. 

"  Play  me  something,  will  you?"  she  said,  with 
a  longing  glance  at  the  Erard. 

"With     pleasure,"     returned    Vincent,    smiling; 


PAULA  59 

"  but  I  am  afraid  you  will  consider  it  rather  a  poor 
performance." 

He  got  up  and  went  to  the  piano,  and  drew  a 
lounge  up  close  beside  it.  "  Come  and  sit  here 
and  inspire  me,"  he  said,  and  Paula  rose.  "  What 
sort  of  thing  shall  I  play  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  at 
her  and  not  at  the  keys. 

"  Choose  for  me,"  she  answered. 

He  turned  over  the  loose  music  at  his  side,  and 
then  drew  out  the  "Braut  lied,"  from  Lohengrin. 
"  I  will  play  this  for  you  only,"  laughed  Vincent ; 
"  nobody  else  shall  ever  hear  it  from  me,"  and  he 
looked  away  from  her,  and  began  to  play.  As  the 
liquid  notes  went  through  the  shadowy  silent  room, 
the  whole  susceptible,  nervous  woman's  nature 
sleeping  in  the  frame  of  Paula,  who  as  yet  was 
but  half  girl  and  half  artist,  felt  its  dreams 
troubled  and  roused  itself  to  listen.  He  played 
well,  as  Charlie  had  said,  and  under  the  mag- 
netism of  the  dreaming  eyes  watching  him  his 
talent  asserted  itself  to  the  full,  and  the  slow, 
subtle,  incomparable  melody  moved  in  its  har- 
monious procession  divinely  under  his  touch.  The 
large  room  was  filled  with  the  exquisite  sympathetic 
bridal  song,  and  the  girl  lay  back  with  suffused 
eyes,  entranced  and  listening.  It  was  the  ex- 
position of  a  great  natural  power.  Vincent  system- 
atically neglected  it  because  he  never  fully  realised 
that  he  possessed  it.  He  knew  that  it  gave  him 
pleasure  to  play,  and  his   friends  to  listen.     The 


60  PAULA 

fust  he  ascribed  to  his  folly,  the  second  to  their 
kindness.  As  in  everything  belonging  to  himself, 
he  saw  little  worth  in  it,  and  merely  laughed 
pleasantly  at  others'  valuation.  "Nonsense,"  he 
would  say,  "  I  have  no  gift  whatever,  except  that 
of  appreciating  other  people's."  He  smiled  now 
as  he  saw  how  the  girl  was  moved  ;  then  laughed 
and  abruptly  let  his  hands  fall  from  the  keys. 

"You  look  quite  pleased,"  he  said  jestingly, 
leaning  his  elbow  on  the  wooden  front  of  the  key- 
board, and  his  chin  on  his  hand ;  "  more  so  than 
you  have  yet  Apparently  I  play  better  than  I 
talk." 

"  I  don't  know,"  murmured  Paula,  "  which  you 
do  the  better."  In  point  of  fact,  she  knew  nothing 
just  then  but  that  she  was  content,  infinitely 
satisfied  in  the  moment,  in  a  beatific  state  of  being 
which  is  the  first  flavour  the  draught  of  pleasure 
brings  to  the  mental  palate. 

"  A  safe  sort  of  compliment  that  commits  one  to 
nothing,"  laughed  Vincent,  looking  down  at  her. 

"  I  must  go  ;  it  is  getting  dark,"  she  said 
regretfully,   but   she   did   not  stir.      "  What   is  the 

time  ?  " 

"Time?"  returned  Vincent,  turning  to  the  key- 
board and  playing  very  softly.  "  One  of  the  names 
of  Pain.  Don't  talk  of  it,"  and  the  music  grew  a 
little  louder,  and  seemed  to  lay  clinging  hands  on 
her  sensitive  soul,  and  to  hold  her  there  motionless. 
The  light  fell  more  and  more,  till  the  three  long 


PAULA  61 

windows  seemed  far-off  panels  of  white  mist     The 
room  was  full  of  soft  shadow  and  low  sound. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said  again.  Vincent  rose, 
walked  towards  the  wall,  and  touched  the  electric 
light  button,  and  a  dozen  lamps  throughout  the 
room  instantly  glowed  into  light  under  their 
different  shades.  The  one  above  the  girl's  head  on 
the  piano  flamed  into  a  blood-red  globe,  and  tinged 
her  in  its  colour.  He  came  back  to  the  piano,  but 
she  sprang  from  her  seat  with  a  determination  that 
expressed  her  reluctance. 

"  No,  really,"  she  said ;  "  I  have  stayed  too  long 
already."  She  laid  the  end  of  her  cigarette  on  the 
silver  ash  tray  by  her  teacup,  and  replaced  her 
glove.  Vincent  made  no  effort  to  detain  her 
further.  They  walked  together  towards  the  door 
through  the  large  shadowy  room  with  the  red  fire 
and  the  red  lamp  left  behind  them. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  and  she  put  her  hand  in 
his  :  it  was  held  there,  and  she  looked  up.  She 
was  drawn  a  little  nearer,  and  then  somehow  in 
some  soft  but  irresistible  way  she  found  herself 
folded  into  his  arms,  close  against  his  breast,  and 
his  lips  against  hers.  Swayed  by  some  power  that 
seemed  quite  new  to  her  and  beyond  herself,  she 
linked  her  arms  suddenly  round  his  neck  and  kissed 
him  back  with  her  warm,  smooth  lips  in  a  quick, 
responsive,  passionate  fervour.  All  the  gratitude 
to  him  for  the  pleasure  of  that  happy  afternoon, 
all  the  appreciation  of  his  charm  and  the  sense  of 


62  PAULA 

violent  attraction  towards  him,  found  relief  in  that 
impulsive  kiss.  It  was  not  the  kiss  of  passion  nor 
even  love.  These  had  not  been  stirred  as  yet;  it 
was  rather  of  enthusiastic  admiration,  as  she  might 
have  bent  suddenly  over  the  page  of  a  book  that 
stirred  her  and  kissed  it  with  vehement  delight.  As 
he  had  said  "  Good-bye,"  words  had  been  leaping 
to  her  lips  and  striving  in  her  brain — words  to  tell 
him  how  she  admired  him,  how  great  her  pleasure 
with  him  had  been.  Then  suddenly  in  his  arms, 
so  near  his  heart,  there  had  seemed  no  way  to 
express  it  all  but  this — no  way  so  simple,  so 
natural,  so  utterly  satisfying,  so  necessary  as  this, 
and  in  a  pure  spontaneous  enthusiasm  she  let  all 
the  strength  of  her  fervid  soul  rush  out  upon  her 
lips  as  they  met  his.  It  ran  like  quick  fire  through 
the  man's  whole  nervous,  excitable  being,  but  he 
gave  no  outward  sign. 

"It  was  very  charming  of  you  to  come,"  he 
said,  very  gently  releasing  her,  withdrawing  his 
arms  from  the  warm,  impulsive,  living  woman's 
form,  and  raising  his  head  from  the  soft  fair  face, 
glowing  now  with  all  sorts  of  lights  and  tints  and 
smile  3 — "  Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  she  murmured.  And  she  passed 
out  of  the  door,  and  he  walked  back  into  his 
rooms. 

He  came  up  to  the  hearth,  where  the  fire  sent 
out  its  warm  red  glow  on  his  feet,  and  the 
lamp    shed    its    soft    scarlet    across    his    face.     He 


PAULA  O3 

mechanically  took  out  a  cigarette  from  the  box, 
and  stood  with  it  unlimited.  The  kiss  was  still 
throbbing  through  his  whole  system,  and  his  mind 
rose  in  rather  dismayed  surprise  to  review  the 
situation.  It  had  been  no  part  of  his  intention  nor 
wish  to  kiss  the  girl  when  he  had  invited  her  to 
come  to  him  ;  but  there,  suddenly,  at  the  door,  at 
the  touch  of  her  warm  hand,  the  attraction  she 
possessed  for  all  men  had  come  over  him  irre- 
sistibly. Almost  before  he  knew  he  wished  it,  he 
had  drawn  her  within  his  arms  and  her  soft  lips 
had  been  under  his,  and  what  a  fresh  ardent  delight 
there  had  been  in  that  embrace  and  kiss  between 
them.  For  years  past  nothing  had  thrilled  him  as 
that  moment  had  done. 

"  She  can  kiss,"  he  thought,  recalling  the  sweet, 
natural,  spontaneous  abandon  on  the  thrown-back 
face  and  the  fire  of  the  lips.  It  had  been  inevitable, 
irresistible,  unavoidable,  that  moment  at  the  door, 
and  very  sweet ;  but  still  he  regretted  it.  It  was 
not  what  he  wanted  with  this  girl.  Passion  be- 
tween them  would  probably  spoil  everything.  And 
he  had  meant  it  should  not  be.  He  was  annoyed 
with  himself  for  yielding  to  the  influence  she  had 
upon  his  senses,  but  he  realised  suddenly  what 
a  powerful,  overwhelming  influence  that  was.  He 
had  planned  a  quiet  friendship,  protective  on  his 
side,  grateful  on  hers,  an  interested  affection,  an 
intellectual  camaraderie,  such  as  already  existed 
with  her  brother,  which  would  have  been  delightful 


64  PAULA 

with  her  clever,  brilliant  mind,  and  he  dreaded  the 
idea  of  passion,  which  he  felt  would  burn  up  all 
these.  He  did  not  understand  that  all  these 
things  he  thought  he  wanted  were  but  disguises 
of  the  natural  yearning  towards  a  woman  who 
attracted  him,  and  without  this  for  their  bases  they 
would  not  have  sprung  up  at  all. 

"  I  will  keep  it  to  a  mere  companionship,"  he 
was  saying  to  himself  now,  as  he  walked  to  and 
fro,  calmly  leaving  out  of  the  matter  his  nature  and 
hers,  and  the  great  inscrutable  law  that  impelled 
them  to  each  other.  The  more  educated  and  cul- 
tivated the  human  mind  may  be,  the  farther  it 
generally  drifts  from  the  great  truth,  that  the  will 
and  the  laws  of  Nature  are  inviolable,  immutable ; 
that  they  work  secretly,  insidiously,  but  unceasingly, 
and  in  the  end  all  laws  must  dissolve  before  them. 
The  great  invisible  latent  force  of  our  own  nature 
within  us  during  life  is  as  relentless,  as  unalterable, 
as  illimitable  as  the  power  of  death.  The  mind 
and  the  brain  that  asserts  itself  in  defiance  is  as 
surely,  as  remorselessly  crushed  by  it  sooner  or 
later  as  the  grain  beneath  the  slow  mill-stone. 

"Yes,  I'll  keep  it  to  companionship,"  he  thought 
again,  with  a  desperate  resolve  for  the  future,  and 
an  angry  reproach  to  himself  that  he  had  been  for 
a  moment  overpowered.  It  was  for  Paula's  sake 
he  reasoned  as  he  did.  It  was  passion  already  on 
his  side,  though  he  refused  to  believe  it,  but  at 
least  it  was  an  unselfish  one.     It  was  not  her  youth 


PAULA  65 

nor  her  innocence  that  appealed  to  him  so  deeply, 
and  stirred  all  the  tenderness  of  his  nature  towards 
her.  It  was  the  promise  of  her  life,  the  brilliant 
gifts  that  he  believed  lay  in  her  hands.  To  darken 
an  opening  life  like  this  !  To  spoil,  or  waste,  or 
cripple  those  splendid  powers  !  The  very  shadow 
of  the  thought  sent  a  shudder  of  horror  through 
him. 

"  Mere  companionship,"  he  repeated  again  to 
himself  as  the  heat  of  the  kiss  died  down  within 
him,  and  the  calm  of  his  resolve  came  over  him, 
and  then  he  went  to  dress  for  dinner. 

Paula  went  down  the  stairs  with  a  buoyant  step, 
a  glow  of  light-hearted  happiness  diffused  through 
her,  a  light  in  her  eyes,  and  a  smile  on  her  parted 
lips.  This  lasted  until  she  reached  the  door  and 
found  herself  in  St.  James'  Street,  and  then  the 
mood,  the  rush  of  simple  natural  feeling  was  gone 
by:  she  found  herself  back  in  the  conventional 
world  in  which  we  live,  and  in  which  we  are 
judged.  She  had  for  one  moment  been  wholly 
natural,  wholly  herself.  For  one  moment  there 
had  been  no  laws,  no  rules,  no  fashions,  only  just 
the  leapings  up  of  sweet,  joyous,  natural  impulses  ; 
but  here  in  the  street,  as  a  sudden  tide,  came  back 
upon  her  the  remembrance  of  the  modern  conven- 
tionalities of  our  civilised  life.  The  colour  burned 
suddenly  in  her  face,  and  her  soft  parted  lips  folded 
together  in  an  angry  line. 

"  Fool  I  was  !  "  she  thought  to  herself.     "  We  arc 


66  PAULA 

no  longer  in  the  Garden  of  Eden.  I  wonder  if  he 
would  misunderstand."  And  somehow  she  did 
not  think  that  he  would  ;  but  still  from  her  own 
standard,  set  up  for  ordinary  daily  life,  she  had 
erred  greatly,  and  a  hot  anger  against  herself  filled 
her.  It  was  so  unlike  herself,  too.  In  all  associa- 
tion with  men  she  generally  placed  so  great  a 
distance  between  herself  and  them  that  they  felt 
and  respected  it.  Why,  here,  had  she  so  suddenly 
failed?  Never  before  had  she  given  a  kiss  to  any 
one  beyond  her  father  and  brother.  She  had  been 
often  asked,  and  it  had  never  occurred  to  her  as 
even  possible  to  comply.  Now,  here,  it  had  not 
seemed  possible,  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  to 
resist !  It  was  incomprehensible.  The  anger  and 
annoyance  within  her  lent  an  unconscious  quick- 
ness to  her  steps.  She  was  already  at  the  top  of 
St.  James'  Street,  when  she  became  aware  suddenly 
of  some  one  trying  to  overtake  her,  and  stopped. 
As  she  turned  she  confronted  a  short,  well-dressed 
girl  with  a  sharp,  fox-like  face  and  foxy-coloured 
hair. 

"Oh,  Maggie,  is  that  you?:'  Paula  said,  recog- 
nising the  girl,  who  stood  always  on  her  left  in  the 
garden  scene  in  which  they  both  appeared  nightly. 

"  Yes,  it's  me,"  responded  the  other.  "  Lor  ! 
you  do  walk  at  a  pace ! "  she  said,  thrusting  her 
arm  through  Paula's,  and  then  added,  in  a  con- 
fidential tone,  as  they  turned  into  Piccadilly,  "  Got 
any  money?  " 


PAULA  67 

"  Got  any  money  ?  "  repeated  Paula  innocently. 
"  No,  I  haven't." 

The  other  darted  a  side  glance  at  her.  "  I  have 
just  seen  you  come  out,  you  know." 

"Yes?  Just  now,  you  mean?  from  Mr.  Halham's 
—well?" 

They  were  walking  down  towards  the  Circus,  on 
the  quiet  side  of  Piccadilly.  The  shops  were  all 
lighted  now,  and  the  pavements  brilliant  with 
streams  of  light  from  the  windows.  Paula  looked 
down  at  the  face  of  the  girl  beside  her,  and  fixed 
her  eyes  there  with  a  cold,  questioning  gaze. 

"  Oh,  you  do  act !  "  said  the  girl  sulkily. 

There  was  silence.  Paula  looked  at  her  with 
the  blood  receding  from  her  face,  leaving  it  stone 
white,  and  her  heart  beating  violently.  The  girl 
felt  the  gaze  of  her  companion,  and  kept  her  own 
eyes  stolidly  on  the  pavement.  Suddenly  she  felt 
a  wrench  at  her  arm.  Paula  had  withdrawn  hers, 
but  she  still  walked  on  in  silence.  She  was  keeping 
a  check  upon  herself  with  difficulty.  When  at  last 
she  spoke  she  merely  said,  quietly:  "Mr.  Halham 
is  my  brother's  friend,  and  I  went  round  to  have 
tea  with  him,  that's  all." 

"Tea!"  muttered  the  girl;  "I'd  call  it  milk  and 
water,  if  I  was  you.  But  there,  Polly,"  she  said, 
suddenly  changing  her  tone,  "  I  didn't  mean  to 
offend  you,  really  I  didn't,  and  I  want  you  to  lend 
me  half-a-sov.;  do,  I'm  that  hard  up  I  don't  know 
where  to  turn — will  you  now  ?     I  know  you've  got 


63  PAULA 

it,"  she  added  coaxingly,  trying  to  take  her  arm 
again,  but  Paula  resented  it. 

"  No,  I  haven't  got  it,"  she  said  coldly.  "  I  have 
absolutely  nothing  at  this  minute.  I  have  lent  to 
you  when  I've  had  anything,  but  we  are  hard  up 
ourselves  now.  I  haven't  the  least  idea  where  our 
rent  is  coming  from  to-morrow." 

"Oh!"  returned  Maggie,  and  relapsed  into 
sullen  silence.  A  few  steps  more  brought  them  to 
the  Circus.  Paula  was  going  to  cross  to  get  into 
Coventry  Street,  and  Maggie's  direction  lay  down 
Regent  Street  towards  Waterloo  Place.  Paula 
parted  from  her  with  a  careless  nod.  "  So-long," 
she  said,  and  crossed  the  road.  Maggie  stood  a 
minute  looking  after  her. 

"Nasty,  mean  thing!"  she  muttered  beneath 
her  sharp-pointed  little  teeth.  "  And  all  that 
affectation  and  side  too  !  I'll  pay  her  out !  "  and 
she  turned  down  Regent  Street. 

Paula  went  on  homewards  filled  with  charing 
irritation  and  bitterness,  which  after  all  is  a  very 
general  state  of  feeling  for  us  all  in  the  press  of 
our  civilised  life,  very  different  from  our  emotions 
in  our  exalte  moments,  such  as  she  had  just  passed 
through,  when  we  take  wing  from  it.  "  I  must  get 
out  of  this  vile  position,"  she  thought  desperately 
as  she  walked  on.  "All  my  gifts,  and  yet  as  I  am, 
classed  with  that  creature  ;  and  before  the  world, 
in  his  eyes  too,  we  should  be  about  on  a  level,  I 
suppose  !     Great  heavens  !  what  have  I  done  these 


PAULA  69 

last  two  years  since  I  came  up  here  ?  I  have 
been  trying  and  trying,  and  I  have  achieved 
nothing." 

That  same  night  by  the  last  post  came  a  few 
lines  from  Vincent.  They  told  her  he  had  had  an 
invitation  from  a  friend  to  spend  a  few  weeks  in 
Belgium,  and  that  he  had  accepted  it.  All  letters 
sent  to  his  club  would  be  forwarded,  and  he  hoped 
to  hear  from  her  now  and  then.  Paula  grew  paler 
with  a  curious  pain  for  the  first  few  seconds  as  she 
read.  Then  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a 
smile  of  self-contempt.  "  What  is  it  to  me  ?  I 
have  got  my  work  to  see  to,"  she  thought.  They 
were  sitting  at  supper,  and  when  she  had  finished 
the  note,  she  tossed  it  over  to  her  brother  with  a 
laugh.  "  Cheerful  place,  Belgium,  at  this  time  of 
the  year,"  she  remarked.  "  I  hope  he  will  enjoy 
himself." 


IV 


A  COUPLE  of  weeks  had  passed,  and  the  little 
household  behind  the  red  blind  in  Lisle  Street 
was  plunged  into  pressing  poverty.  For  some 
unassigned  reason  Paula  had  lost  her  place  at  the 
theatre,  and  the  eighteen  shillings  a  week  thus  cut 
off  from  their  small  total  income  was  a  frightful 
loss.  The  reason  for  her  sudden  dismissal  Paula 
had  no  clue  to,  except  that  which  lay  in  two 
malevolent  brown  eyes  looking  out  of  a  foxy  face 
at  her  on  the  Saturday  afternoon  when  she  was 
abruptly  cashiered.  Thinking  over  the  matter  a 
thousand  times,  with  crimsoning  face,  she  re- 
membered the  girl's  meeting  with  her  outside 
Vincent's  house  ;  she  remembered  her  words ;  she 
remembered  the  manager's  particular  fad  that  those 
girls  in  the  minor  parts  and  lower  ranks  should  be 
of  unquestioned  moral  character.  He  had  to 
tolerate  constantly  all  sorts  of  peculiarities  amongst 
the  "  stars  "  ;  but  this,  so  far  from  inuring  him  to 
an  atmosphere  of  moral  elasticity,  made  him  all 
the  more  virulent  against  any  shortcomings  of  the 

70 


PAULA  71 

mere  supers.  Try  as  she  would  to  shake  herself 
free  from  the  idea,  Paula  could  not  help  feeling 
that  the  innocent  afternoon  at  Vincent's  rooms 
had  been  the  root  of  the  evil.  It  jarred  upon  her, 
and  she  could  not  explain  her  suspicions  to  her 
brother  ;  she  would  not  even  admit  it  to  herself. 
She  only  reiterated  to  him,  with  a  burst  of  angry 
tears,  that  they  had  given  her  no  reason,  and  she 
knew  of  none;  and  they  both  bore  their  misfortunes 
with  the  pagan  resignation  their  father's  teaching 
had  instilled  into  them.  Charlie's  lessons  fell  off 
too,  as  several  of  his  pupils  were  laid  up  with 
coughs  and  colds,  and  too  ill  to  take  them.  One 
week  they  had  only  nineteen  shillings  to  meet 
their  expenses,  out  of  which  their  rent  absorbed 
thirteen  shillings.  When  he  had  paid  this,  Charlie 
brought  up  the  remaining  six  shillings  and  laid 
them  on  the  faded  cloth.  The  girl  was  sitting  at 
the  table,  with  a  sheet  of  foolscap  before  her,  and 
a  long  quill  pen  in  her  hand.  She  looked  at  the 
money  absently  for  a  minute,  and  then  raised  her 
eyes  to  his,  and  laughed. 

"  Is  that  all  we  have  for  this  week  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  We  must  cut  off 
our  cigarettes,"  she  murmured,  and  went  back  to 
polish  an  epigram. 

Charlie  sat  down  to  the  table  with  an  air  of 
desperation,  and  began  to  write  a  letter.  When 
he  had  finished  it,  the  girl  looked  up. 


/- 


PAULA 


"  Whom  have  you  written  to?" 

"  Vincent." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  To  ask  him  to  lend  us  ten  pounds." 

Paula  paled  suddenly.     "  Give  me  the  letter." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Burn  it." 

"What  nonsense!"  exclaimed  Charlie;  "ten 
pounds  is  no  more  to  Vincent  than  ten  pence  ! 
He  would  lend  it  gladly  !  " 

"  That's  nothing  to  do  with  it.  The  idea's 
horrible.  Do  let's  keep  our  friendship  with  him 
intact,  and  not  drag  our  wretched  money  affairs 
into  it." 

"  As  you  please,"  returned  Charlie,  flinging  the 
letter  into  the  fire,  "  only  I  don't  see  what  we're  to 
do." 

Paula  returned  to  her  work  in  silence,  and  her 
brother  left  the  room. 

That  same  afternoon  she  went  out  and  pawned 
her  bracelet  and  cigarette  case.  They  gave  her 
five  pounds  for  the  one  and  ten  shillings  for  the 
other.  Then  she  went  on  into  Regent  Street  and 
bought  ten  yards  of  coarse  red  silk  at  Liberty's. 
She  turned  over  every  silk  they  possessed  before 
the  right  tint  was  discovered,  but  at  last  she  selected 
one.  It  was  a  deep  blood  colour  with  the  lights 
and  reflections  of  wine  shimmering  on  its  surface. 
She  gave  one  pound  fifteen  shillings  for  it,  and 
took  the  rest  of  the  money  back  to  her  brother. 


PAULA  73 

"This  will  last  a  little  while,"  she  said,  caress- 
ingly ;  "as  to  what  is  to  happen  next,  tit  nc 
qucBsicris  scire  nefas"  she  quoted  laughingly.  The 
silk  was  taken  up  to  her  room  and  pushed  in  a 
wrapper  carelessly  under  the  bed. 

Some  days  later  than  this  she  had  a  long  letter 
from  Vincent,  in  answer  to  one  of  hers  that  had 
told  him  in  a  general  way  of  her  difficulties  in 
getting  her  work  considered  even.  He  said  he 
should  be  back,  he  thought,  in  a  few  days,  and 
added  in  a  postscript  :  "  Try  Reeves,  the  manager 
of  the  Halibury  Theatre.  He  is  a  friend  of  mine, 
and  will  help  you,  I  think;  only  I  should  apply  j:>er- 
sonally."  She  read  the  letter  to  her  brother,  and 
every  afternoon  subsequent  to  its  receipt  Charlie 
asked  petulantly,  "  Why  didn't  she  go  to  see 
Reeves  ?  "  But  for  a  whole  week  Paula  did  not  go, 
spending  the  afternoon  and  sometimes  evening  in 
her  bedroom,  locked  in.  One  day,  however,  just 
after  their  nominal  lunch,  as  he  sat  moodily  over 
the  fire,  mentally  considering  his  list  of  pupils,  she 
came  into  the  room  behind  him,  and  said  quietly 
in  her  flute-like  voice,  "  I'm  going  to  see  Reeves." 

Charlie  turned  and  saw  her  standing,  a  mar- 
vellous figure,  in  the  dingy  room,  clothed  from 
head  to  foot  in  blood-coloured  silk.  Over  her 
arm  hung  her  old  black  dress. 

"  Do  you  like  my  costume  ?  "  she  said.  "  This  is 
for  the  dance  at  the  end  of  the  play.  I  made  it, all 
myself  this  last  week." 


74  PAULA 

"  You're  not  going  down  the  Strand  like  that,  I 
hope  ? " 

Paula  laughed.  "  No ;  look  here,"  and  she 
slipped  her  black  skirt  on,  and  then  drew  on  the 
jacket  bodice  of  her  dress.  In  two  seconds  the 
crimson  silk'  had  disappeared  from  view. 

"Yes  ;  it's  a  fetching  sort  of  dress.  You  copied 
it  from  that  old  picture,  '  A  Persian  Dancer,'  we 
had  down  at  home,  I  know.  Will  the  British 
matron  approve  of  it,  though  ?  " 

"  She'll  have  to,"  replied  Paula,  putting  on  her 
hat  and  coat.  "  Will  you  get  back  from  Ealing 
to-night?" 

"  No  ;  I  think  not.  They've  got  a  big  concert 
on.  I'll  be  back  to-morrow  some  time  before 
luncheon." 

At  hour  later  Paula  was  at  the  Halibury.  Mr. 
Reeves  had  sent  word  he  would  sec  her  if  she 
could  wait.  He  was  busy  with  his  manager  just 
then.  Paula  assented  gladly,  and  half-an-hour 
went  by.  The  fog  descended,  together  with  the 
temperature,  and  penetrated  the  corridors  and 
passages  of  the  theatre.  At  four  a  common- 
looking  young  man  brought  her  a  cup  of  coffee, 
and  mumbled  something  about  Mr.  Reeves  being 
sorry  to  detain  her,  and  improvised  a  seat  for  her 
where  she  stood  in  the  passage,  and  left  her  again 
to  her  own  reflections.  Paula  sat  and  waited 
patiently  on  the  upturned  box,  one  knee  crossed 
over  the  other,  and  the  flexible,  boneless-looking 


PAULA  75 

little  foot,  in  its  muddy  shoe,  swinging  slowly,  as  she 
gazed  absently  down  between  the  pasteboard  walls 
to  the  dim  shadowy  expanse  of  the  stage.  She 
held  the  coffee-cup  in  her  hand  untouched,  until 
the  coffee  grew  cold  in  the  chilly  little  draught  that 
played  round  her  shoulders.  Paula  was  indifferent 
to  the  coffee,  unconscious  of  the  cold  ;  all  her 
thoughts  and  senses  were  absorbed,  focussed,  on 
those  boards,  that  looked  so  smooth  and  clean  in 
their  present  obscurity.  She  sat  and  stared  at 
them  until  the  sight  seemed  to  hypnotise  her  ;  it 
seemed  as  if  the  shaded  level  fascinated  her,  as 
they  say  quicksands  will  fascinate  a  man  who 
gazes  long  at  them.  At  last,  with  a  mechanical, 
noiseless  movement,  she  set  the  cup  down  on 
the  floor  beside  her,  rose  to  her  feet,  with  her 
eyes  still  on  the  stage,  and  glided  silently  along 
towards  it. 

She  went  to  the  centre,  and  then  paused  and 
looked  round.  She  was  quite  alone.  The  de- 
serted theatre,  looking  vast  in  its  emptiness,  and 
filled  by  shifting  yellow  vapour  as  the  fog  came 
oozing  in  from  the  outside,  loomed  before  her 
vague  and  uncertain,  the  dim  stage  stretched 
round  her.  Paula  looked,  and  the  light  of  anima- 
tion and  excitement  leapt  all  over  her  face,  her 
eyes  widened  and  gleamed  as  they  swept  over 
the  gloomy  obscurity  of  the  house.  To  her,  it 
was  full,  full  from  ceiling  to  floor,  of  eager  faces, 
dazzling  with  light,  overflowing  with  a  surging  sea 


76  PAULA 

of  humanity,  of  life,  enchained,  held  silent  by  her, 
and  she  the  sole  mistress  of  this  stage,  the  holder 
of  the  magic  that  held  the  house.  She  stretched 
out  her  arms  to  the  vacant  building  in  a  sudden 
momentary  intoxication,  the  intoxication  that 
comes  from  the  knowledge  of  power. 

"Sooner  or  later  I'll  hold  you  all  in  the  hollow 
of  my  foot !  "  she  murmured,  her  lips  quivering  in 
an  exultant  smile.  "  One  more  rehearsal  can't  do 
any  harm  before  I  show  to  the  old  bird,"  and  she 
slipped  off  her  shoes.  Two  seconds  sufficed  for 
her  quick  supple  fingers  to  unfasten  and  throw  off 
the  old  black  merino  dress,  another  two  to  drag 
the  battered  hat  from  her  head  and  subtract  the 
two  crossway  pins  from  her  hair,  and  then  she 
stood  upright,  a  vivid  figure  in  the  scarlet  Persian 
dress,  with  stockinged  feet,  and  loose  hair,  and 
falling  sleeves.  For  a  moment  she  stood  just 
softly  humming  the  measure,  and  beating  her  feet 
in  time.  Then  when  the  bar  assigned  to  it  was 
reached,  suddenly  she  gave  the  wonderful  back- 
ward leap  that  makes  the  dancing  of  the  Levantine 
Arabs  a  thing  of  wonder  and  intoxication  for  the 
eye.  With  her  two  little  feet  kept  well  together, 
she  sprang  upwards  and  backwards,  her  whole 
supple  body  convex  for  an  instant  in  one  single 
simple  perfect  curve,  her  head  almost  to  her  heels 
with  its  weight  of  hair  sweeping  the  boards. 

It  was  a  dance  that  she  had  practised  over  and 
over  again,  for  sheer  love  of  it,  in  her  room,  and 


PAULA  77 

sometimes  before  her  brother.  The  first  idea  had 
been  given  her  from  an  old  book  of  plates  they 
had  had  as  children,  illustrating  the  dances  of  all 
lands.  The  mere  jigging  of  European  countries, 
in  which  the  feet  carry  the  stiff  motionless  figure 
from  one  spot  to  another,  appealed  to  her  as  little 
as  the  mere  posturing  and  contorting  of  the  Farther 
East,  in  which  the  feet  remain  motionless.  It  was 
the  poetry  of  motion  that  lies  between  these  two 
extremes,  in  which  the  feet  are  not  chained  to  the 
ground,  and  where  every  limb  has  to  respond  to 
the  rhythm  of  the  ankles,  that  Paula  had  made  her 
own. 

Pay  a  young  Arab  to  dance  to  you  in  the  Levant, 
or,  better  still,  come  upon  him  unobserved  when  he 
is  dancing  before  his  friends,  and  never  again  will 
any  other  dance  satisfy  you.  Paula  danced  now 
as  they  dance,  herself  drunk  with  the  physical 
delight  of  it.  Her  eyes  were  half  closed,  and  her 
sense  of  hearing  turned  inwards,  following  silently 
the  rhythm  beating  in  her  brain.  She  neither 
heard  nor  saw  two  men — Reeves  and  his  manager 
— coming  down  the  wings,  and  was  unconscious 
that  they  stopped  short  upon  the  stage,  open 
mouthed  and  eyed.  They  waited  there  and 
watched,  silent,  almost  breathless,  until  the  dance 
came  to  its  close.     Then  Reeves  coughed  loudly. 

Paula  turned,  and  stood  for  a  second  looking 
them  full  in  the  face,  then  she  advanced  easily.  A 
brilliant  flush  from  the  physical  exercise  burned 


78  PAULA 

on  her  cheeks,  her  widely-expanded  eyes  showed 
the  nervous  tension  passed  through,  and  there 
was  a  smile,  almost  insolent  in  its  assured 
triumph,  on  her  lips.  As  she  came  up  there 
was  an  unconscious  arrogance  in  her  step;  in  her 
whole  walk  the  inevitable,  subtle,  physical  ex- 
pression of  her  mental  attitude.  It  was  a  mistress 
approaching  her  two  dependents.  She  had  the 
sovereignty  with  which  genius  impartially  invests 
the  poorest  and  the  humblest — a  divine  sovereignty 
before  which  earthly  sovereignty  shrinks  abashed. 
For  that  moment  she  was  clothed  in  it,  and  she 
knew  it,  and  felt  it,  and  realised  it ;  and  the  two 
men  before  her  realised  it  too,  more  clearly  than 
was  quite  comfortable.  One  thought  was  present, 
however,  to  both  of  them — that  which  had  held 
them  so  breathlessly  would  hold  the  house.  When 
she  was  within  a  yard  of  them  she  stopped. 

"I  didn't  know  I  had  an  audience,  and  such  a 
critical  one,"  she  said,  resting  both  hands  on  her 
hips.  "  What  do  you  think  of  my  pas  seul  a 
FArabique?"  The  tone  was  jesting  and  familiar, 
her  eyes  flashed  mockingly  over  them.  It  was  im- 
possible to  restrain  herself:  the  cells  in  her  brain 
were  glowing,  the  blood  racing  in  her  veins;  she 
felt  an  irresistible  sense  of  her  triumph,  the  triumph 
of  a  thing  perfectly  accomplished,  an  art  perfectly 
expounded.  She  could  not  recall  the  artificial 
humility  of  her  tones  when  she  had  sought  ad- 
mission.     The  two   pompons    magnates   standing 


PAULA  79 

there,  round-eyed  and  limp,  small  potentates  in  the 
possession  of  a  few  roods  of  earth  and  a  few  feet  of 
bricks  and  mortar,  struck  her  as  ludicrous  in  her 
intangible,  impalpable,  yet  incomparable  wealth  of 
the  potentialities  in  her  own  brain  and  limbs. 

"Ah a   very  wonderful  performance,"    said 

Austin  Davies,  Reeves's  manager.  "  Where  under 
the  sun  could  you  have  learnt  such  a  thing?" 

"  Learn,"  echoed  Paula,  her  lips  parting  and  her 
eyebrows  rising  in  derisive  laughter.  "  I  don't 
learn  !  Who  should  teach  me  ?  The  thing's  mine. 
I  evolved  it !"  and  she  laughed  again,  throwing  back 
her  head,  till  they  saw  nothing  but  the  white  swell- 
ing throat  and  full  under-chin.  "  It  comes  in 
my  play,  you  know — the  play  I've  come  to  you 
about.  I've  got  the  MS.  here.  I  hoped  perhaps 
you'd  consider  it,"  and  she  looked  at  Reeves. 

He  had  stood  silent,  holding  his  chin  in  his  hand 
and  staring  at  her.  As  she  turned  and  caught  his 
gaze,  there  was  a  passing  contraction  of  the  expres- 
sive eyebrows.  In  these  moments  she  had  been 
all  artist,  and  the  woman  in  her  forgotten,  but 
Reeves  seemed  looking  more  at  the  woman  than 
the  artist. 

"Certainly,"  he  said;  "I  shall  be  very  pleased 
to  consider  it.  But  where  does  the  dance  come 
in?" 

"  The  leading  part  has  it,  and  it  comes  at  the 
close  of  the  third  act." 

"Ah — hum,"  said  Reeves,  "then — I  suppose  it 


So  PAULA 

might  be  difficult  to  find  another I  suppose 

you  would  be  the  best  exponent  yourself?  " 

"Well,  it  does  seem  likely,  doesn't  it?"  returned 
Paula,  with  a  laugh,  going  over  towards  where  her 
clothes  lay,  and  picking  up  the  roll  of  manuscript. 
"  Here  you  are,"  she  said,  carelessly  opening  the 
paper  and  handing  it  to  Reeves  ;  "  there — third 
act,"  and  she  indicated  with  her  finger  where 
he  was  to  look.  Reeves  did  look,  but  his  eyes 
followed  the  finger  also  with  interest. 

Davies  took  the  upper  edge  of  the  paper  in  his 
hand,  and  peered  over  his  companion's  shoulder. 
Paula  stood  and  watched  them  both,  as  they  stood 
silent,  reading.  She  knew  the  general  effect  of 
giving  her  writings  in  this  way.  It  was  almost  as 
certain  as  turning  on  the  spectator  Medusa's  shield. 
The  paper  was  taken  with  indifference,  the  first  lines 
carelessly  scanned,  and  then  came  the  absorption  of 
the  reader,  and  his  gradual  assumption  of  similarity 
to  a  stone  figure. 

Paula  waited  perhaps  fifty  seconds  till  the  solidi- 
fication was  tolerably  complete,  and  then,  as  care- 
lessly as  she  had  given  it,  put  her  whole  hand  over 
the  middle  of  the  page  to  draw  it  away.  "  That's 
the  play,"  she  said,  "  and  I  thought  you  might  like 
to  see  me  rehearse  the  dance,  so  I  dressed  ready 
for  it ;  but  now  you  have  seen  it,  haven't  you  ?  So 
I  think  I'll  be  going  home." 

Davies  and  Reeves  both  raised  their  eyes 
simultaneously,  and  tightened  their  clutch  on  the 


PAULA  Si 

paper  as  she  tried  to  withdraw  it.  "  This  seems 
extremely  interesting,  Miss — er — Heywood,"  said 
Reeves.  "  We  must  consider  this.  Suppose  you 
come  to  my  house  now  and  read  it  through  to  me  ? 
We  might  get  through  some  business  this  evening." 

Paula  was  silent.  She  hesitated,  and  her  hesi- 
tation was  visible  in  the  uncertain  swaying  of  the 
scarlet -clothed  figure  and  the  raising  of  her  eye- 
brows. Both  men  watched  her  keenly.  "  I  should 
think  you  might  read  it  yourself,"  she  said  at  last 
in  an  injured  tone. 

"  I  might,  but  I  shan't,"  said  Reeves  curtly,  letting 
the  roll  of  MS.  in  his  hands  fly  to  again. 

"  You're  not  so  busy,  Miss  Paula,  surely  ?  "  added 
Davies,  with  a  grin. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Paula  ;  "  I'll  come  and  read  it 
to  you." 

"  Get  your  clothes  on,  then,  and  wait  here,"  said 
Reeves  ;  "  I'll  come  back  and  fetch  you  in  a  minute. 
Come,  Davies ; "  and  he  turned  away  with  the  MS. 
still  in  his  hand.  When  both  men  had  disappeared 
down  the  wing,  Paula  went  to  her  heap  of  old 
black  clothing  and  her  muddy  shoes,  and  put  them 
on.  The  brilliant  Oriental  figure  vanished  into 
its  black  shroud,  the  shining  hair  was  bunched 
relentlessly  into  the  crown  of  the  shapeless  hat, 
and,  re-transformed  into  the  common  nondescript 
form  of  the  poor  London  girl,  Paula  sat  down 
on  the  boards  from  sheer  fatigue,  to  wait  for 
Reeves.     "  How  funny  it  all   was,  not   a  bit  like 

6 


32  PAULA 

the  interview  I  thought,  and  their  finding  me 
like  that,"  she  muttered  ;  "  however,  it  all  seems 
smooth  so  far."  As  the  heat  and  glow  kindled  by 
the  dance  died  out  of  her  poorly-nourished  body, 
and  the  delightful  animation  of  her  triumph  faded 
from  her  brain,  she  began  to  feel  chilly,  cold, 
mentally  and  physically.  The  stage  was  draughty, 
and  she  shivered  in  the  damp  fog,  and  pressed  her 
hands  in  her  lap  to  keep  them  warm. 

In  a  few  minutes,  Reeves,  looking  twice  his 
natural  siae  in  a  fur  overcoat  and  silk  hat,  with 
both  hands  plunged  into  his  capacious  pockets, 
came  hurrying  back.  His  face  was  large  and 
pallid,  and,  together  with  his  pale  greenish  eyes 
and  light  hair,  brought  before  one's  eyes  the  irre- 
sistible suggestion  of  a  large  white  cat.  He 
perceptibly  started  as  his  eye  fell  on  the  little 
shabby  black  heap  sitting  on  the  boards  just  where 
he  had  left  the  brilliant  Eastern  dancer. 

"  Come,  my  dear  child,  come,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  You'll  catch  cold,"  and  he  extended  one  hand  to 
help  her  on  to  her  feet.  "  Follow  me,"  he  said, 
and  led  the  way  round  through  the  wings  to  the 
stage-door.  It  was  beginning  to  snow  outside. 
Reeves's  little  brougham  was  waiting  for  them.  An 
icy  wind  howled  down  the  black  street,  whirling 
a  cloud  of  snowflakes  in  its  path.  As  Reeve, 
opened  the  door,  it  swirled  over  the  threshold  like 
eddying  water,  and  the  snow  stung  their  faces 
and  fell  white  upon  the  door-mat.     Two  men  were 


PAULA  83 

standing  gossiping  just  inside  the  doorway;  they 
nudged  each  other  as  Reeves  and  his  companion 
came  up,  and  both  followed  with  interested  eyes 
the  pair  across  the  pavement  in  the  snowy  wind — 
Reeves,  huge  and  solid  in  his  heavy  coat,  the  girl 
slight,  with  uncertain  footsteps,  and  thin  black 
clothes  blown  about  her  by  the  angry  gusts.  Reeves 
held  the  door  open,  and  she  got  in  and  sat  down 
in  the  soft  corner  of  the  carriage.  Reeves  followed, 
and  took  up  between  himself  and  his  coat  all  the 
remaining  two-thirds  of  the  seat — a  not  unwelcome 
presence  to  her  then  in  her  cold,  starved  misery,  by 
reason  of  his  very  air  of  warmth  and  wealth  and 
comfort. 

He  turned  to  her  as  the  door  snapped,  and  they 
started.  "Well,  little  girl,  that's  better,  eh?"  he 
said  kindly.  "  Beastly  night  to  be  out  in  on  foot." 
He  patted  the  small  soft  hand  that  lay  ungloved 
on  her  knee — a  hand  that  no  fire-lighting  nor  any 
other  work  could  roughen,  nor  redden,  nor  leave 
other  than  smooth  and  white  and  supple,  as  its 
nature  was  to  be.  Paula  glanced  up  at  him 
quickly,  and  read  his  face  ;  it  was  gracious,  patron- 
ising, benign,  and  kind  and  smiling — all  that  a 
man's  is,  in  fact,  when  he  is  with  a  woman  who  is 
pleasing  to  him,  and  by  whom  he  feels  certain  he 
will  not  be  repulsed. 

Paula  felt  a  quick  mental  recoil,  a  sort  of 
nervous  apprehension  as  she  looked  up,  and  the 
image  of  that  other  graceful  and  fascinating  per- 


84  PAULA 

sonality  sprang  up  in  her  brain.  But  where  her 
art  was  concerned,  Paula  was  blind  and  deaf  to 
all  else  ;  her  instincts  fought  savagely,  unreason- 
ingly  for  that,  trampling  on  everything  that  rose 
in  its  path.  She  saw  that  she  was  expected  to 
make  herself  amiable,  and  she  yielded  at  once  to 
the  necessity.  "  For  my  play,"  she  thought  half 
unconsciously,  as  another  woman  might  have  said, 
"  For  my  child." 

She  smiled  back  at  Reeves  a  lovely  smile,  that 
seemed  almost  to  light  up  the  brougham  like  a 
flash  of  electric  light.  Want  of  food,  fatigue  and 
cold,  nervous  excitement,  and  the  influence  of  the 
opium  and  nicotine  of  her  incessant  cigarette 
smoking,  had  all  contributed  to  intensify  the  pallor 
of  her  face,  and  lend  it  a  peculiar  brilliance  ;  false 
and  delusive,  and  not  lasting,  but  effective,  fas- 
cinating, for  the  time,  like  the  dying  light  on  the 
consumptive's  features.  She  let  her  hand  rest 
passive  under  Reeves's,  and  said  gently,  in  her 
softest  tone,  "  Yes,  it's  very  good  of  you  to  take 
all  this  interest  in  my  work.  I  have  had  so  many 
disappointments,  and  had  such  a  dreadfully  hard 
time  lately." 

Reeves  felt  a  delightful  consciousness  of  his  own 
generosity  and  magnanimity  grow  within  him. 
"  Well,  perhaps  that's  all  coming  to  an  end  now," 
he  answered;  "we  must  sec  what  can  be  clone  with 
you.  Next  year  you  may  be  driving  home  in  your 
own  brougham,  who  knows?  " 


PAULA  85 

Paula  merely  laughed,  leaning  back  in  her 
corner,  and  yielding  her  figure  to  the  easy,  spring- 
ing motion  of  the  carriage.  They  were  bowling 
smartly  up  Piccadilly  now,  and  her  eyes,  looking 
through  the  window  beyond  Reeves,  caught  the 
flash  of  light  from  the  window  of  the  Piccadilly 
Club.  She  sat  forward  suddenly,  and  looked 
through  the  snow-whitened  darkness  at  the  bright 
panes,  with  the  figures  of  the  men  moving  behind 
them.  "  Was  he  there?  "  she  wondered  ;  one,  per- 
haps, of  those  very  forms  she  caught  sight  of 
indistinctly  as  the  carriage  flashed  by?  Then 
Reeves's  words  came  back  to  her :  Her  own 
brougham — next  year. 

Next  year !  might  she  not  then  be  on  a  level 
with  him ;  with  name,  money,  influence  at  her 
command,  would  she  not  be  his  equal?  Equal? 
She  would  be  more,  for  half  her  gifts  were  divine, 
and  his,  at  most,  of  this  world.  He  would  be  a 
man  of  wealth,  a  distinguished  figure  amongst  his 
own  set;  but  she,  if  she  could  but  develop  and 
display  her  gift,  would  have  the  fame  of  half  the 
world, — she  who  now,  night  after  night,  walked  by 
on  the  wet  pavements  outside  his  club  in  all  but 
rags.  And  he  loved  her  now,  she  knew  it,  and 
what  then  when  he  saw  her  famous,  brilliant,  sought 
after  ? 

Her  thoughts  moved  on,  gay  symphonies  of 
colour,  melting  and  changing  one  into  the  other,  a 
wild  but  beautiful  phantasmagoria  of  the  future; 


S6  PAULA 

and  she  sat  lost,  absorbed  in  its  contemplation, 
pale  and  with  her  lips  parted,  and  her  eyes  fixed, 
and  one  hand  clutched  unconsciously  at  her  beating 
heart.  Reeves  sat  beside  her,  wondering  whether 
he  had  really  come  across  a  good  thing  in  this 
casual  way,  and  roughly  casting  up  the  cost  of 
mounting  a  play  where  the  scene  was  laid  in  Persia. 
A  jerk,  as  the  coachman  pulled  up  before  the 
mansion  where  Reeves  owned  the  first  floor  fiat 
and  the  one  above,  recalled  them  both.  Reeves 
helped  her  out  attentively.  Paula's  head  swam  as 
she  entered  the  heated  atmosphere  and  glare  of 
light  within  the  glass  doors,  where  the  small  page- 
boys stood  gazing  through  at  the  whirling  snow 
beyond  the  portico,  and  the  broad  white  steps  of 
the  general  staircase,  with  their  red  carpet,  seemed 
to  heave  and  sway  like  billows  rising  in  the  ocean. 
Mechanically  she  took  the  arm  that  Reeves  ex- 
tended to  her,  and  walked  up,  the  stairs  feeling  like 
vague,  yielding  vapour  to  her  feet. 

When  they  reached  the  drawing-room,  Reeves 
ensconced  her  in  the  most  comfortable  chair,  put 
one  of  the  electric  lamps  behind  her,  so  that  it  shed 
a  flood  of  shaded  light  over  her  shoulder,  and, 
pulling  his  own  chair  within  a  reasonable  distance, 
prepared  to  listen  with  critical  attention.  He 
might  be  extremely  susceptible  where  a  woman 
was  concerned  ;  but  he  was  a  sharp,  cute,  hard- 
headed  judge  when  his  work  came  into  the  matter. 
He  made  it  his  boast  that  he  had  never  produced 


PAULA  8; 

an  unsuccessful  play.  Now  he  did  not  even  glance 
at  the  girl,  but  sat  staring  fixedly  into  the  fire, 
with  all  his  soul  in  his  ears,  listening,  rapt,  with 
his  brain  at  full  stretch.  Paula  had  a  quite  remark- 
able talent  for  reading  aloud.  Her  voice  was 
singularly  flexible,  with  tones  in  it  as  soft  as  the 
touch  of  velvet.  And  it  fitted  round  each  indi- 
vidual word  and  sentence  like  an  exquisite  setting 
to  jewels.  She  read  for  two  hours  and  three- 
quarters  without  a  sign  of  fatigue,  and  then,  at  the 
last  word  in  the  play,  let  the  MS.  drop,  and  looked 
smilingly  at  Reeves.  He  jumped  to  his  feet,  and 
took  a  turn  round  the  room. 

"  First  rate ! "  he  said,  as  he  came  back  and  sat 
down  opposite  her  again  ;  "  first  rate  !  "  He  looked 
keenly  at  her.  "  Well,  well !  "  he  thought ;  "  how 
unexpectedly  one  chances  sometimes  on  a  prize !" 
Aloud  he  only  said,  "  I  can't  promise  anything, 
you  know,  until  I've  consulted  my  manager ;  but 
I'm  pleased  myself,  and  if  he  agrees,  we'll  bring  it 
out.  Then  your  dancing  is  quite  remarkable ; 
where  could  you  have  got  it  from  ?  Have  you 
ever  been  in  the  East  ?  " 

"  Never,"  replied  Paula,  stretching  her  feet  a 
little  nearer  to  the  hot  blaze  of  the  fire.  She  felt 
weak  now,  and  dreamy,  and  faint,  and  it  was  nice 
to  sit  there  in  the  depths  of  that  luxurious  chair 
and  listen  to  compliments. 

"  Marvellous  !  I  have  seen  an  Arab  youth  dance 
just  like  that,  with  that  inward  curving  of  the  spine, 


SS  PAULA 

but  never  any  European.  You  must  have  practised 
a  great  deal." 

"  Comparatively  little,"  murmured  Paula  ;  "only 
just  when  I  felt  inclined." 

Reeves  noticed  how  pale  she  was  looking.  "  You 
look  worn  out,"  he  said  kindly.  "  Have  some  coffee 
or  brandy  and  soda  to  pull  you  round." 

"  Oh  no,  thanks,"  replied  Paula,  hastily  getting 
up,  with  a  glance  at  the  clock  ;  "  I  must  go — I've 
been  here  an  age." 

As  she  went  to  the  door,  Reeves  followed  her. 
All  through  the  interview  his  attraction  towards 
her  had  been  growing  stronger  :  her  presence,  her 
attitude  in  his  large  arm-chair,  those  soft,  well-made 
feet  on  his  fender-rail,  her  smile,  her  voice — all  these 
had  been  as  small  draughts  of  stimulants  to  him, 
which  a  man  takes  without  noticing  or  counting,  but 
which  work  their  effect  all  the  same  upon  him. 

Paula  was  conscious  of  it,  as  she  was  conscious 
that  she  habitually  attracted  men.  She  had  made 
no  more  effort  to-night  than  she  ever  did,  but  she 
had  been  with  him  for  three  hours,  and  therefore, 
at  the  end,  the  caress  in  his  voice,  the  warm  pressure 
of  his  hand,  the  light  in  his  eyes,  all  seemed  natural 
to  her.  She  was  so  accustomed  to  them  all,  she 
received  them  all  from  every  nine  men  out  of  ten 
she  came  in  contact  with.  But  Reeves  had  heard 
the  play.  He  had  sat  and  listened  to  a  piece  such 
as  comes  once  or  twice  perhaps  into  the  hands  of 
a  manager   in  his  whole  managerial  life — if  he  is 


PAULA  89 

lucky.  The  wit  and  the  brilliance  of  it  was  in  his 
ears,  it  seemed  to  fill  the  atmosphere  of  the  room, 
and  gather  like  a  glittering  aureole  round  the  girl's 
pale  excited  face,  and  the  quick  thrill  of  excite- 
ment in  his  veins  was  nearly  outweighed  by  the 
deference  for  her  genius. 

"You  will  consider  it  then,"  she  said,  turning 
at  the  door,  "  and  let  me  know  soon  ?  "  She  smiled 
faintly;  her  eyes  were  full  of  light  under  their 
sweetly  arched  lids,  her  tone  was  appealing,  her 
face,  turned  to  him,  seemed  to  say,  "  My  life 
depends  on  you."  The  excitement  rushed  up 
through  the  deference. 

Reeves  took  her  hand  again.  "  Yes,  very  soon — 
to-morrow  perhaps,"  he  answered.  "  Good-night, 
dear;  mayn't  I?  just  one."  He  had  slipped  his 
arm  round  her  waist,  his  face  was  close  to  hers. 
Paula  had  drawn  back,  very  gently,  but  decidedly. 
"Just  to  seal  our  agreement  about  the  play,"  mur- 
mured Reeves,  with  his  lips  very  close. 

Paula  flushed,  and  the  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 
The  play  was  very  dear,  and  she  might  be  en- 
dangering it.  "  Please  don't  ask  me,  not  to-night," 
she  murmured  appealingly. 

Reeves  drew  back  at  once  and  dropped  his  arm. 
"  Oh,  certainly  not,  if  you  don't  wish  it ! "  he  said, 
with  chill  formality,  and  elaborately  opened  the 
door,  standing  at  arm's  length.  Paula  hesitated  an 
instant,  then  passed  through  the  door.  Reeves 
accompanied  her  in  silence  across  the  hall  of  the 


90  1'AULA 

flat  to  the  outer  door,  opened  this  for  her,  and 
stood  back  chillily  for  her  to  pass  on  to  the  stair- 
case. They  could  see  straight  down  it  and  through 
the  double  glass  doors  into  the  street.  The  storm 
had  increased  :  a  perfect  blizzard  howled  and  raged 
past  the  well-fitting  panels  of  those  baize-edged 
doors.  Nothing  was  visible  but  a  whirling  white 
sheet  beyond  the  panes.  The  air,  even  here  on  the 
house  staircase,  had  an  icy  grip.  The  wind  was 
audible  throuch  the  solid  walls.  Reeves  had  meant 
to  send  the  girl  home  in  a  hansom,  with  one  of  his 
rugs  to  help  her  miserable  clothing  in  keeping  her 
warm,  but  that  little  incident  at  the  door  had 
changed  the  tenor  of  his  thoughts.  He  looked 
now  at  the  raging  snowstorm  with  grim  satisfac- 
tion. "  Let  her  walk,"  he  thought, — "  it  will  do  her 
good." 

"Good  evening,  Miss  Heywood,"  he  said  aloud, 
and  turned  back  into  his  flat,  closing  the  door 
quietly  behind  him  and  leaving  her  on  the  stair- 
case. 

Paula,  who  had  known  his  thoughts  perfectly, 
and  was  also  accustomed  to  these  sudden  falls  of 
temperature  in  men's  manners,  smiled  slightly,  and 
went  down  and  out.  As  she  opened  the  doors,  the 
gust  of  icy  wind  in  her  face  almost  hurled  her  back- 
wards. She  merely  smiled  as  the  snow  beat  into 
her  face,  set  her  teeth,  and  let  the  door  swing  to 
behind  her  on  the  warmth  and  ease  and  comfort 
they  guarded,  and    turned   into  the   street      She 


PAULA  91 

went  a  few  steps,  staggering  under  the  violence 
of  the  wind,  blown  from  one  side  of  the  pavement 
to  the  other,  blinded  by  the  cutting  snow  driving 
against  her  eyes. 

The  wind  caught  her  hat  and  wrenched  at  it, 
dragging  it  to  one  side;  then  it  attacked  her  hair, 
not  very  securely  done  at  the  theatre,  and  pulled 
it  out  in  loose  strands  across  her  eyes  ;  then  it 
came  under  her  thin  cape,  piercing  her  through  to 
the  heart  with  a  deadly  chill  of  cold,  and  sent  her 
reeling  against  the  ice-bound  railings.  She  clung 
to  them,  panting,  gasping  for  breath.  Her  weak- 
ness came  suddenly  home  to  her.  How  her  heart 
seemed  to  flutter  and  her  limbs  to  be  like  paper! 
Would  she  ever  reach  Lisle  Street?  "Nonsense, 
I  must,"  she  thought,  checking  the  spasm  of  fear 
that  rose  in  her. 

She  left  the  railings  and  struggled  on  again.  A 
slight  lull  came  in  the  wind,  and  she  reached 
Piccadilly  in  safety.  The  snow  was  now  thick  on 
the  pavements,  and  her  feet,  chilled  through  and 
through  in  the  old  shoes,  ached  with  the  cold. 
Very  few  people  seemed  out,  here  at  the  top  of 
Piccadilly.  A  man  passed  at  intervals  with  his 
collar  turned  up,  hat  pressed  on  his  eyes,  and 
hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  that  was  all.  Feeling 
an  intolerable  faintness  grow  upon  her  with  each 
step,  Paula  stumbled  on  painfully,  and  gradually 
got  down  towards  the  bottom  of  the  incline.  There 
were  more  people  here  and  more  light,  and  as  she 


92  PAULA 

approached  the  Piccadilly  Club  a  warm  pulse  beat 
through  her  cold  sick  misery.  "  Dear  Vincent," 
she  murmured  involuntarily,  as  she  saw  the  warm 
light  from  the  Club  windows  pour  out  into  the 
snow-laden  air.  The  wind  seemed  suddenly  to 
gain  a  fresh  access  of  fury  as  she  came  up  to  the 
Club,  the  snow  beat  and  whirled  and  surged  wildly 
in  it.  Paula  felt  with  terror  her  strength  was 
ebbing,  a  strange  breathless  dizziness  was  coming 
over  her.  How  cold,  oh  how  bitterly  cold  it  was ! 
a  darkness  greater  than  the  darkness  of  the  night 
was  closing  in,  her  heart  seemed  leaping  in  her 
throat,  her  limbs  had  no  feeling,  she  tottered, 
stretched  her  hand  blindly  to  the  railing,  missed  it, 
staggered,  and  fell  senseless  in  the  snow. 

About  the  same  time  that  Paula  left  Reeves, 
Vincent  had  entered  his  Club  to  inquire  for  letters, 
and,  finding  one  or  two  of  importance,  stayed  there 
to  read  them.  He  stopped  there  reading  and  then 
considering  them,  till  the  clock  struck  the  half-hour 
past  seven,  then  he  remembered  he  was  going  out 
to  dinner.  He  had  his  coat  brought,  and  prepared 
to  leave.  As,  with  his  collar  well  turned  up,  and 
his  gloved  hands  in  his  pockets,  he  signed  from  the 
Club  steps  to  a  passing  hansom,  his  eye  caught 
sight  of  a  small  crowd  of  people  standing  in 
the  driving  snow  round  some  object  on  the 
ground. 

"  Pore  thing,  she's  dead  most  like,"  he  heard  one 
old  woman  mutter  to  herself  as  she  turned   from 


PAULA  93 

the  group,  shivering  herself,  and  hurried  away  into 
the  darkness. 

Vincent,  who  always  allowed  himself  to  be  in- 
fluenced easily  where  a  woman  was  in  question, 
sauntered  down  the  steps  to  the  crowd,  while  the 
hansom  waited  at  the  kerb. 

Two  men  were  just  lifting  a  limp  black  figure 
from  the  ground  ;  the  head  dragged  heavily  back- 
ward, the  hat  had  fallen  off,  and  a  mass  of  tumbled 
yellow  hair  and  a  stone-white  face  caught  the  light 
from  the  Club  window. 

"  God  in  heaven  !  "  ejaculated  Vincent,  as  his 
eyes  fell  upon  it,  "  Paula  ! "  The  men  who  had 
lifted  her  looked  up,  every  face  in  the  little  knot 
of  figures  turned  to  him.  They  were  all  poor, 
common  people,  and  they  stared  at  Vincent's  tall 
well-dressed  figure  sprung  suddenly  amongst  them, 
and  the  white  horror  of  his  face. 

"Do  you  know  the  young  woman,  sir?"  said 
the  man  who  was  supporting  Paula's  shoulder;  her 
arm  dropped  nerveless  to  the  ground,  the  lovely 
hand  lay  upturned,  livid  in  the  snow. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Vincent,  briefly,  forcing  his  way 
to  her  side.  "  Here,  my  men,  lift  her  up  on  to 
those  steps  while  I  get  some  brandy." 

"  Too  much  of  that  on  board  already,  I  should 
say,"  remarked  a  loafer  at  his  side  with  a  grin. 
Vincent's  eyes  met  his.  He  walked  at  him  as  the 
man  stood  in  his  way,  and  rolled  him  backward  into 
the  gutter.     Vincent  sprang  up  the  steps  and  into 


94  PAULA 

the  Club  as  the  men  carried  Paula  with  difficulty,  in 
the  teeth  of  the  raging  blizzard,  after  him.  His 
heart  seemed  breaking  with  pity.  "  Poor  little 
girl,"  he  muttered,  "  poor  dear  little  girl."  He 
got  the  brandy  in  a  glass  from  one  of  the  stewards, 
and  hurried  back  to  her.  One  of  the  roughs  was 
supporting  her  head  on  his  arm,  kneeling  on  the 
upper  step.  The  other  stood  by  holding  her 
shapeless  hat  and  turning  it  nervously  in  his 
hands  ;  the  remaining  people,  whose  curiosity  was 
sufficient  to  dull  their  sense  of  cold,  stood  round 
the  bottom  of  the  steps,  staring  open-mouthed. 
Vincent  went  down  on  his  knees,  raised  her  head 
on  his  own  arm,  and  put  the  brandy  to  her  lips. 
A  little  ran  over  them  and  fell  down  the  pale 
cheeks ;  her  teeth  were  clenched,  hard  and  im- 
movable. Vincent  saw  nothing  would  pass  them. 
He  looked  up,  half  inclined  to  summon  a  doctor, 
then  his  eye  fell  on  the  increasing  knot  of  figures 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps.  A  policeman  had  strolled 
up  by  this  time,  and  was  standing  looking  over 
their  heads  at  all  the  proceedings  with  judicial 
gravity,  while  the  snow  piled  itself  on  his  helmet. 
On  the  other  side  of  him  he  was  conscious  of  the 
grinning  waiters  staring  through  the  glass,  and  he 
thought  he  caught  the  voice  of  a  man  he  knew 
demanding  his  coat  preparatory  to  coming  out. 

"  Shall  I  fetch  a  doctor,  sir?"  volunteered  one  of 
the  men,  in  an  awed  voice  he  thought  suited  to  the 
blue  tint  of  the  upturned  face. 


PAULA  95 

"  No,"  said  Vincent  sharply,  anxious  to  get  away 
from  this  theatrical  publicity  ;  "  I'll  take  her  to 
her  own  home,"  and  he  stooped  over  the  pulseless 
figure  and  lifted  it,  and  went  down  the  steps  to 
the  cab. 

"  He  knows  'er  pretty  well,  don't  'ee  ?  "  grinned 
one  man  to  the  other  as  he  followed  with  the 
hat. 

Vincent  pushed  decisively  through  the  loafers 
and  past  the  policeman,  who  only  stood  and 
stared  stolidly  in  the  driving  wind.  The  cabman 
had  jumped  from  his  scat,  and  offered  to  hold 
her  if  Vincent  got  in  first.  He  sprang  in,  and  then 
between  the  two  men  the  girl's  nerveless  body  was 
put  inside  ;  the  little  feet  dragged  upon  the  step, 
and  ca'bby  had  to  press  them  up  with  his  hands. 
Vincent  took  the  head  on  his  breast,  and  put  both 
arms  round  her.  "  Lisle  Street,"  he  called  to  the 
cabman,  and  gave  the  number.  Cabby  clambered 
to  his  box,  and  the  cab  whirled  away  rapidly 
through  the  sheets  of  blinding  snow. 

"  Darling  !  darling  !  "  murmured  Vincent,  beside 
himself  with  distress,  lifting  her  head  higher  on  to 
his  breast,  and  pressing  his  lips  down  on  hers. 
Just  as  they  turned  the  corner  of  Leicester  Street, 
she  stirred  a  little  in  his  arms,  and  he  saw  her  eyes 
open  and  felt  her  shiver. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  she  murmured  vaguely. 

"You  fainted,  darling;  but  you  are  safe  now, 
safe  in  my  arms,  and  close  at  home."     Paula  drew 


96  PAULA 

a  long,  gasping  breath,  her  head  fell  back,  and  she 
drifted  away  into  unconsciousness  again. 

When  the  landlady  appeared  at  the  door,  in 
answer  to  the  cabman's  knock,  Vincent  beckoned 
to  her.  The  woman,  impressed  by  the  sight  of 
Vincent's  silk  hat  and  high  white  collar,  which  she 
caught  a  glimpse  of  through  the  glass,  lumbered 
across  the  pavement  in  the  snow. 

"  Sakes  alive  !"  she  exclaimed,  on  seeing  the  limp 
form  and  death-like  face  within.  "  Whatever's 
happened  to  her  ? " 

Vincent  flung  open  both  doors,  and  with  great 
difficulty  managed  to  put  the  girl  into  the  cabman's 
arms,  while  the  woman  supported  her  feet,  that 
had  banged  against  the  step  before,  to  Vincent's 
distress.  When  the  trio  had  reached  the  hall, 
Vincent  took  her  again  himself,  and  sent  the  cab- 
man to  fetch  the  nearest  doctor. 

"  Which  is  her  room  ?  "  he  asked  the  landlady  as 
he  went  up  the  stairs,  with  the  woman  following 
him. 

"  Over  the  drawing-room,  sir,  at  the  back,"  she 
answered,  and  they  mounted  the  stairs  in  silence. 

Through  all  his  anxiety  and  distress  a  faint 
feeling  of  pleasure  passed  into  Vincent's  mind  at 
the  thought  of  seeing  her  room,  and  being  privi- 
leged to  enter  it.  At  the  head  of  the  stairs  he 
paused :  they  were  in  pitch  blackness,  and  he  did  not 
know  where  the  door  was.  The  landlady  fumbled 
in   her  pocket  for  the    matches,  and   then   hastily 


PAULA  97 

pushed  past  him,  opened  a  door,  and  struck  a  light. 
She  lighted  a  candle  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  as  it 
flared  up  Vincent  followed  her  into  the  room.  It 
struck  him  as  painfully  small  and  poor,  with  its 
sloping  roof;  but  the  bed  in  the  corner  was  a 
pretty  spot  in  it.  He  walked  to  it  and  laid  her 
on  it. 

"  Is  Mr.  Ileywood  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Have  you  any  brandy  in  the  house?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  they  'as  some  in  their  own  cupboard," 
the  woman  answered  glibly.  She  knew  exactly 
where  that  brandy  was  situated. 

"  I'll  go  downstairs  for  it.  I  would  undress  her 
at  once  and  put  her  into  bed,  and  cover  her  up 
well,"  Vincent  said.  "  Do  that  at  once,  will  you  ?  " 
he  added  sharply,  as  the  woman  stood  looking 
rather  helpless,  and  he  disappeared.  It  only  took 
him  a  few  minutes  to  run  down  the  stairs  and  find 
the  cupboard  in  the  unlighted  room  below.  He 
got  out  the  bottle  and  bounded  up  the  stairs 
again.  The  landlady  had  succeeded  in  loosening 
Paula's  clothing,  and  drawing  off  her  wet  skirt. 
Underneath  this  she  had  unexpectedly  come  upon 
the  beautiful  Liberty  silk,  and  stripped  it  off  with 
impatient  fingers.  "  Makin'  out  they're  so  poor 
and  dressin'  up  like  this,"  she  muttered  con- 
temptuously, flinging  the  dress,  now  a  good  deal 
crushed  and  tumbled,  on  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
Then  she  dragged  the  blankets  and  quilt  over  her, 

7 


98  PAULA 

and  as  Vincent  re-entered,  stood  panting  from  her 
exertions. 

He  came  over  to  the  bed — the  white  face  and 
tumbled  hair  lay  motionless  on  the  pillow.  Her 
teeth  were  not  so  tightly  clenched  as  in  the  former 
faint.  Vincent  bent  over  her  and  poured  some  of 
the  brandy  between  her  lips.  She  stirred  a  little, 
and  the  lips  parted  easily  now  and  her  eyelashes 
quivered.  "That  is  better,"  he  murmured,  in  a 
relieved  tone.  "Can't  you  light  a  fire?"  he  said, 
looking  up  at  the  woman,  who  stood  beside  him 
staring  solemnly;  "this  room's  freezing,"  and  he 
shivered  in  his  overcoat. 

"  I  don't  know  as  this  grate'll  burn,"  returned  the 
woman,  going  sullenly  over  to  it;  "I  don't  know  as 
it  doesn't  smoke." 

"Light  it  and  see,"  said  Vincent  shortly  from  the 
bed.  The  helpless  disbelief  of  this  class  of  person 
in  their  own  and  everybody  else's  capacity  to  do 
anything  needful,  always  annoyed  his  willing,  in- 
dependent spirit. 

"Well,  sir,"  rejoined  a  complaining  voice  from 
the  hearth,  "I've  no  one  to  help  me;  my  servant's 
out,  and  I'm  not  accustomed  to  be  asked  ter  do 
such  things  at  this  time  of  night,  when  I'm  dress  :d 
and  all,  with  the  coals  and  the  sticks  in  the  cella 
right  away  downstairs." 

Vincent  straightened  himself  and  stood  up  by 
the  bedside,  setting  the  brandy  on  the  table 
beside   him,  and    looked    clown   upon   the   woman 


PAULA  99 

with,  as  she  said  afterwards,  "quite  a  nasty  flash 
in  his  eyes."  "  The  fire  must  be  lighted,"  he  said, 
"  so  there  is  an  end  to  it.  If  you  won't  do  it,  I  will." 
The  landlady  gazed  at  him  in  blank  astonishment. 
The  tall,  slim  figure  in  the  long  coat  looked  very 
commanding  standing  there.  His  silk  hat  almost 
touched  the  sloping  beam  against  the  ceiling.  He 
gave  her  one  second  in  which  to  answer,  then 
seeing  her  still  hesitate,  and  feeling  a  shiver  run 
through  the  form  on  the  bed,  he  snatched  up  the 
second  candlestick  from  the  mantelpiece  and 
lighted  it.  "  Kindly  stay  here,  then,"  he  said 
sharply,  as  he  went  out.  The  landlady,  feeling 
half  resentful,  half  overawed,  stood  a  few  minutes 
where  he  had  left  her,  and  then  began  thuddincr 
round  the  room  with  her  heavy  tread,  unneces- 
sarily putting  things  straight,  and  making  a 
vulgar  neatness  speaking  of  herself,  out  of  the 
beautiful  confusion  that  spoke  of  Paula.  The 
form  on  the  bed  shivered,  and,  for  want  of  more 
brandy,  lapsed  again  into  insensibility. 

Vincent  found  his  way,  with  light  feet,  to  the 
very  bottom  of  the  house,  and  groped  along  a  stone 
passage,  which  he  judged  might  lead  to  the  cellar 
beneath  the  steps.  He  came  across  an  old  basket 
on  his  way  there,  and  this,  when  he  reached  the 
cellar,  he  balanced  on  the  coals  and  proceeded  to 
fill  it.  There  seemed  no  shovel,  so  he  gathered 
together  the  most  promising  lumps  with  his 
fingers.     Then  he  found  his  way  carefully  back  to 


ioo  PAULA 

the  kitchen,  and  looked  about  for  the  wood.  A 
pile  of  bundles  happened  to  be  standing  behind 
the  kitchen  door.  He  took  a  whole  one,  and  a 
newspaper  that  was  screwed  in  the  corner  of  the 
fender.  All  went  into  the  basket  on  his  arm,  and 
he  turned  to  go  upstairs.  Only  perhaps  five 
minutes  altogether  had  elapsed  before  he  re-entered 
Paula's  room. 

The  landlady,  who  had  taken  a  chair  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  gasped  when  she  saw  him  come  in  with 
her  vegetable  basket  full  of  coals.  He  took  no 
notice  of  her,  but  set  the  coals  by  the  grate,  and 
then  approached  the  bed.  It  was  close  to  the 
window,  and  an  icy  draught  from  without  blew 
upon  him  and  it.  He  looked  at  the  covering  for 
a  minute  and  then  felt  it.  It  consisted  of  two  very 
thin  blankets  and  a  worn  cotton  quilt.  Vincent 
unfastened  his  overcoat  and  then  drew  it  off.  It 
was  warm  through  with  his  own  warmth.  He  laid 
it  over  the  girl,  pressing  it  close  round  her  shoulders. 
The  woman  watched  him  stolidly,  more  impressed 
than  ever  now  by  his  evening  dress  and  expanse 
of  shirt  front. 

"Have  you  taken  off  her  shoes?"  he  asked 
suddenly,  turning  on  her. 

She  mumbled  apologetically  that  she  had  for- 
gotten it. 

Vincent  volunteered  nothing;  he  merely  told  her 
to  get  up  and  let  him  come  to  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
J'aula's   two   little  feet,  in  their  soddened,  muddy 


PAULA  10 1 

shoes,  lay  together,  limp  and  ice-cold,  between  the 
blankets.  He  drew  both  shoes  and  stockings  off, 
and  held  the  frozen  feet  for  a  minute  in  his  warm 
hands.  Work  and  love  and  anger  sent  the  blood 
quickly  and  hotly  along  his  veins.  He  laid  the 
little  feet  back  in  the  blanket,  somewhat  warmed 
by  the  contact  of  his  hand,  and  covered  them  over. 
Then  he  crossed  to  the  hearth  and  knelt  down  on 
it  to  light  up  the  fire.  He  had  just  stuffed  in  the 
paper  and  laid  the  wood  when  there  was  a  per- 
emptory tap  at  the  door,  and  immediately  after  the 
doctor  came  in. 

He  was  a  short  man  with  a  pompous  dignity  in 
every  line  of  his  face  and  form.  He  stopped  short 
just  inside  the  door,  at  the  sight  of  Vincent's 
elegant  figure  in  his  evening  dress  kneeling  before 
the  grate. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Vincent,  with  the  least  trace  of 
impatience  in  his  voice,  and  going  on  rapidly  with 
his  work.  "  Your  patient  is  on  the  bed.  She 
fainted  and  fell  on  the  pavement  about  an  hour 
ago.  She  came  to  as  I  brought  her  home  and 
fainted  again,  but  not  so  deeply.  It  has  seemed 
more  a  stupor  than  a  faint  since." 

By  this  time  Vincent  had  put  a  match  to  the 
paper,  and  the  fire  was  so  scientifically  laid,  and 
with  such  an  abundant  supply  of  wood  that  it 
caught,  and  a  broad  sheet  of  flame  went  crackling 
up  the  chimney. 

"  Enough  to  set  it  afire,"  remarked  the  landlady, 


102  PAULA 

coming  over  to  the  rug;  "and  not  swept  this  nine 
years." 

Vincent  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  gone  over  to 
where  the  doctor  stood  looking  down  on  the  bed. 
He  had  one  of  Paula's  hands  in  his,  his  fingers  on 
the  wrist,  and  glanced  at  the  watch  in  his  other 
hand.     He  looked  up  as  Vincent  approached. 

"  The  cabman  desires  to  be  paid,"  he  said 
merely,  in  solemn  tones. 

"  The  cabman,"  echoed  Vincent,  for  a  minute 
not  knowing  what  he  meant.  Then  he  glanced  at 
the  unwieldy  form  of  the  landlady.  Should  he 
send  her  down — no,  quicker  to  go  himself.  In  the 
hall  he  found  the  cabman.  Their  colloquy  was 
short,  and  Vincent  was  soon  back  in  the  top  room. 

"Well,  how  is  she?"  he  asked  as  he  came  into 
it.  The  fire  was  blazing  away  merrily,  and  the 
little  place  many  degrees  warmer  now  than  when 
he  had  entered  it  at  first. 

"  There's  nothing  at  all  the  matter  that  I  can 
discover,"  said  the  doctor,  speaking  gravely  with 
pursed-up  lips.  "  It  is  simply  a  case  of  inanition. 
I  should  say  she  has  had  no  food  for  several  hours, 
and  that  combined  with  the  cold  has  produced 
collapse.  She  wants  food  now,  food  and  wine,  and 
watching." 

"  What  sort  of  food,"  demanded  Vincent — "  beef- 
tea?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  "  beef- tea  would  be 
excellent,  and  wine  or  brandy  at  intervals.     She 


PAULA  103 

shouldn't  be  left  alone  without  stimulants  through 
the  night.  The  fire  should  be  kept  up,  and  some 
one  should  watch  her  and  be  ready  with  nourish- 
ment at  the  least  sign  of  faintness.  She  seems  to 
me  to  have  been  overstrained — she's  low,  and  the 
action  of  the  heart  very  weak.  Coma  in  a  low 
temperature  in  her  state  might  be,  well " — with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders — "fatal;  she  should  be 
watched." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Vincent  thoughtfully.  He 
stood  silent  for  a  second  or  two  thinking.  He  had 
had  no  time  till  now  to  remember  his  own  engage- 
ments. They  flashed  upon  him  now;  he  must 
send  a  note  to  the  people  he  had  disappointed  at 
dinner,  and  for  the  other — should  he  be  wanted 
here  through  the  night? 

"  May  I  ask,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  round 
superciliously  at  the  silk-lined  overcoat  on  the  bed, 
at  the  hat  on  the  chair,  at  Vincent's  own  figure, 
and  the  mark  the  grate  bars  had  left  on  his  other- 
wise immaculate  shirt-cuff,  "if  you — er — intend  to 
stay  yourself?"  What  was  this  whole  little  busi- 
ness ?  he  wondered. 

"  Well,"  Vincent  said  simply,  "  the  fact  is  I  was 
just  going  out  to  dinner  when  all  this  happened. 
She  fainted  just  outside  my  club,  and  I'm  due  now 
elsewhere,"  he  added,  pulling  out  his  watch  and 
looking  at  it.  "  But  nothing  is  of  any  consequence 
except  securing  her  getting  round.  If  )rou  say  she 
can't  be  left  I  must  stay  till When's  Mr.  Hey- 


104  PAULA 

wood  coming  back?"  he  said  suddenly,  turning 
towards  the  woman  at  the  hearth. 

"Not  till  to-morrow  mornin';  'ee's  gorn  into  the 
country,"  returned  the  woman  rather  spitefully. 

Vincent  hesitated.  He  raised  his  eyebrows 
significantly  at  the  doctor  and  went  to  the  door; 
the  doctor  followed  him,  and  when  the  two  men 
were  outside,  Vincent  said  :  "  That  woman  is  a 
perfect  fool,  and  will  do  nothing,  and  the  girl's 
brother's  away.  I  can  stay  myself  with  her  till 
to-morrow  morning  and  watch  her,  if  you  could 
kindly  send  in  the  things  you  think  necessary." 

The  doctor  came  down  a  little  from  his  throne 
of  pomposity  and  promised  to  see  the  things  were 
sent ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  Vincent  came  back  to 
deal  with  the  landlady.  Her  fat,  loud-breathing 
presence  in  the  room  annoyed  him,  and,  as  she  had 
evidently  no  intention  of  being  more  than  orna- 
mental, he  thought  he  could  dispense  with  her 
altogether.  The  landlady  had  some  scruples  as  to 
the  respectability  of  the  whole  proceedings,  but 
Vincent  was  so  dictatorial,  so  "  barefaced,"  as  she 
put  it,  that  her  moral  courage  ebbed  before  him, 
and  at  last  she  lumbered  out  of  the  room  and  down 
the  stairs,  muttering  "  she'd  never  known  such 
goin's  on  in  all  her  born  days."  Vincent,  left  in 
possession  upstairs,  looked  round  the  little  room 
and  over  the  sweet  unconscious  figure  on  the  bed, 
with  a  thrill  of  keen  feeling. 

Ilalf-an-hour  later  Eli/a,  the  servant,  came  up, 


PAULA  105 

round-eyed  with  astonishment,  bringing  a  tray  of 
parcels  from  the  chemist's  and  grocer's.  Vincent 
had  his  kettle  boiling,  and  in  three  minutes  was 
carrying  a  cup  of  beef-tea  to  the  bed.  Paula  lay 
in  a  conscious  stupor  ;  but  he  roused  her  enough 
to  drink  the  contents  of  the  cup.  She  opened  her 
eyes  dreamily  upon  him.  "  How  delightful  it  is  to 
be  with  you  ! "  she  murmured.  Then  she  closed 
them  again  with  a  sigh. 

Vincent  flushed  with  pleasure,  took  the  cup  from 
her,  and  went  back  to  the  hearth.  The  doctor  had 
said  she  was  to  sleep  if  she  could,  and  only  be 
roused  if  her  lips  seemed  growing  white.  Vincent 
sat  and  watched  her,  while  the  little  clock  on  the 
mantelpiece  ticked  away  the  seconds. 

At  intervals  he  went  to  look  at  her.  Twice  she 
was  too  white  to  please  him,  and  he  got  her  to 
swallow  some  brandy,  and  brought  the  colour  back. 
At  two  o'clock  the  cold  seemed  to  intensify,  and 
he  went  to  her  again.  No ;  she  was  not  white 
now.  The  face  glowed  like  delicate,  rose-tinted 
porcelain.  She  seemed  to  feel  his  presence  and 
his  gaze,  for  her  eyes  opened.  She  looked  up  at 
him.  She  was  not  very  clear ;  the  returning 
warmth  and  sleepiness  made  everything  confused, 
in  a  pleasant  confusion.  Vincent  looked  down  on 
her. 

"  Are  you  warm  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  deliciously  warm,"  she  murmured. 

Vincent  put  his  hand  in  under  the  blankets  round 


106  PAULA 

her  neck.  "  Yes,  you  are,"  he  said,  withdrawing  it, 
and  covering  her  close  to  the  chin.  "  Keep  so, 
and  go  to  sleep."  He  was  turning  away,  but  she 
murmured  his  name.  It  was  just  a  soft  whisper. 
Her  cheeks  were  flushed  now,  her  lips  warm  and 
red,  her  eyes  bright,  though  suffused  with  drowsy, 
semi-unconsciousness.  She  realised  nothing  except 
that  he  was  there. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Vincent. 

"  Kiss  me,"  she  murmured,  and  Vincent  bent 
down  and  kissed  her,  with  his  heart  beating. 

"  Good-night,  dear,"  he  said  gently,  and  the 
extreme  softness  and  gentleness  of  his  voice  acted 
like  a  soothing  spell  upon  her  tired  brain,  and 
lulled  it  into  sleep  again.  Vincent  went  over  to 
the  hearth,  took  the  one  high  cane  chair  there  was, 
and  stretched  out  his  legs  wearily  to  the  fender. 
He  felt  very  tired  himself  now,  cold  without  his 
coat  in  the  draughty  room,  and  faint  for  want  of 
food.  He  had  had  nothing  to  cat  since  his 
luncheon  that  day  at  one.  He  glanced  at  the 
becf-tea  jar  on  the  mantelpiece,  but  somehow  felt 
too  worn  out  to  be  at  the  trouble  of  making  it 
for  himself.  He  folded  his  arms  on  his  chest  to 
keep  his  hands  warm,  and  let  his  head  sink  for- 
ward, and  his  eyelids  over  his  eyes.  It  got  colder 
momentarily,  and  the  temperature  in  the  room 
sank,  though  the  fire  burned  well.  Vincent  coughed 
several  times  and  turned  uneasily,  as  he  dozed  on 
the  hard  chair. 


PAULA  107 

Towards  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  light 
began  to  struggle  into  the  room.  The  snow  that 
lay  on  all  outside  lent  its  reflection,  and  the  room 
grew  light  rapidly.  Paula  stirred  in  her  sleep,  then 
opened  her  eyes  and  looked  round.  Invigorated 
by  the  food  and  the  brandy,  and  the  long  unbroken 
rest,  she  felt  well — quite  well ;  and  with  her  brain 
clear  now,  and  only  her  memory  of  last  night  at 
fault,  she  gazed  about  her.  The  table  beside  her 
of  bottles  and  glasses  and  cups,  the  coat  over  her, 
Vincent's  motionless  figure  in  the  chair  by  the 
hearth,  told  her  this  much  at  once  :  she  had  been 
ill ;  he  had  stayed  with  her  and  been  nursing  her.  A 
warm  glow  ran  through  her ;  she  almost  trembled 
with  the  quick  thrill  of  loving,  affectionate  gratitude 
that  penetrated  her. 

"Vincent,"  she  said  softly,  raising  herself  on  one 
elbow.  The  motionless  figure  did  not  stir.  Paula 
slipped  out  of  bed,  and  with  her  bare  feet  crossed 
to  him.  The  piled-up  fire  was  still  burning  steadily, 
but  Paula  felt  how  cold  the  air  was  in  spite  of  it. 
She  stood  for  a  second  or  so  rubbing  one  little  foot 
over  the  other,  and  looking  down  upon  him.  Then 
she  dropped  on  one  knee  beside  him,  and  put  her 
arms  round  without  touching  him,  and  let  her  hands 
rest  at  the  back  of  his  chair,  that  she  might  lean 
forward  and  look  into  his  face.  She  was  always  a 
little,  just  a  very  little — well,  not  afraid  of  him,  but 
timid  with  him  when  they  were  together  ordinarily, 
and  now  it  was  so  delightful  to  have  him  like  this 


10S  PAULA 

so  completely  in  her  possession,  so  unconsciously, 
so  helplessly  for  those  few  minutes  her  own. 

She  noticed  his  evening  dress,  and  her  eye  pass- 
ing over  him  rested  on  the  white  cards  that  stuck 
out  of  his  breast  pocket.  By  his  attitude,  as  he 
had  fallen  more  into  sleep  and  sunk  more  forward, 
the  cards  had  been  forced  half  out  of  his  pocket, 
and  Paula  could  recognise  them  as  invitation 
cards :  on  the  foremost  of  one  she  could  read 
"Lady  Sandhurst"  and  "pleasure"  and  "company" 
and  "dinner."  The  other  was  a  similar  card  with 
a  different  writing,  doubtless  a  second  invitation. 
Paula's  sensitive  eyes  glowed  and  lighted  as  she 
looked,  then  she  glanced  round.  No  sign  of  any 
dinner  for  him  here :  then  her  eyes  came  back  to 
him  ;  she  noticed  the  coal-dust  on  his  cuffs  and 
hands. 

Paula  leaned  yet  a  little  more  forward  and  gazed 
into  the  unconscious  face.  Its  bloodlessness  and 
the  fine  carving  of  its  lines  reminded  her  of  a 
statue.  The  cold  morning  light  striking  across  it 
made  it  very  grey ;  the  checks  were  pale ;  the 
whole  face  looked  tired  and  haggard.  He  was 
sleeping  quite  silently  with  his  mouth  tightly 
closed  and  lips  compressed.  That  moment,  in- 
significant and  commonplace  as  it  seemed,  was 
the  greatest,  psychologically,  of  her  life.  In  that 
moment  when  she  knelt  there  with  her  bare  feet 
on  the  bare  floor  of  the  attic,  looking  into  his  face, 
the  great  admiration  within  her  was  joined  suddenly 


PAULA  109 

by  a  great  gratitude,  and  from  the  union  of  these 
two  her  love,  a  devoted  passionate  love,  sprang 
into  being.  The  grey  light  came  in  and  embraced 
them  both.  The  unconscious,  wearied,  sleeping 
figure  of  the  man,  and  the  ardent,  intensely  living 
form  and  just-awakened  face  of  the  girl  kneeling 
there  with  her  bare  white  arms  locked  round  him, 
her  hair  falling  on  her  shoulders,  the  linen  loose 
and  open  at  her  neck,  and  her  eyes  upraised,  full 
of  the  brightest  of  all  dawns.  "  My  life,  if  ever  you 
need  it,"  she  murmured.  There  was  only  a  grey, 
light  quietness  round  them.  No  eye  and  no  ear 
witnessed  the  vow.  Vincent  stirred  slightly.  Did 
there  come  to  him  any  touch  of  dim  consciousness 
that  his  future  was  balanced  and  decided  in  that 
moment? 

Paula,  remembering  suddenly  her  half-dressed 
condition,  rose  hastily  as  he  moved  and  retreated 
to  the  bed.  She  had  got  in  and  drawn  up  the 
clothes  just  as  he  lifted  his  head  and  uncrossed  his 
stiffened  arms.  His  first  glance  was  towards  the 
bed. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  feel  now  ?  "  he  said,  smiling. 

"  Quite  well :  how  good  you  were  to  me  last 
night ! " 

"  I  could  hardly  do  less,  dear,"  returned  Vincent. 
"  I  should  think  you're  ready  for  some  breakfast, 
aren't  you  ?  "  He  stirred  the  fire  into  a  blaze,  and 
set  the  kettle  on. 

"  The  coffee's  downstairs  in  the  cupboard  where 


no  PAULA 

you  found  the  brandy,"  volunteered  Paula,  feeling 
a  delight  in  this  humble  domesticity  shared  with 
him.  What  would  poverty  or  any  exterior  circum- 
stance matter  if  one  possessed  this  fund  of  pleasure 
in  a  companion's  presence?  The  young  fellow's 
face  and  figure  furnished  this  poor  little  room 
better  than  all  the  upholsterers  in  London  could 
have  done. 

"  I'll  go  and  fetch  it,"  he  answered,  and  went 
out  and  down  the  narrow  dark  stairs  that  he  felt 
quite  familiar  with  since  last  night. 

About  nine  o'clock  Charlie  reached  Lisle  Street, 
and  went  straight  up  to  his  sister's  room,  just 
glancing  into  the  sitting-room  on  his  way  up.  As 
he  pushed  the  door  open,  the  sound  of  laughter 
reached  him,  the  blazing  light  o(  the  fire,  and  the 
scent  of  toast  and  coffee.  He  came  in,  and  then 
stopped  in  blank  amazement  on  the  threshold. 
Paula  was  a  little  raised  in  the  bed,  leaning  on  one 
doubled  white  arm,  her  light  hair  flowing  in  ruffled 
waves  over  the  pillow  propped  up  behind  her. 
Beyond  Vincent's  pallid,  tired  looks  there  was 
nothing  to  suggest  illness  of  cither.  Vincent  was 
sitting  on  the  foot  of  the  bed,  leaning  against  the 
rail  and  sipping  his  coffee. 

Charlie  stood,  growing  pale,  and  his  heart  beating 
painfully.  Nothing  seemed  able  to  explain  this 
situation.  Vincent's  evening  dress  proclaimed 
that  he  must  have  been  there  all  night,  and  his 
overcoat  flung  upon  the  bed,  and  his  gloves  and 


FAULA  in 

hat  on  the  girl's  toilet  table,  lent  an  indefinable  air 
of  appropriation  to  the  place. 

"This  looks  a  terrible  scene  of  dissipation,  I'm 
afraid,"  Vincent  said,  quietly  smiling ;  "  but  come 
in,  it's  all  right  when  explained." 

Charlie  came  in,  reassured,  in  spite  of  the  evidence 
of  his  own  senses.  "You  are  two  extraordinary 
people,"  he  said,  shutting  the  door  and  going  over 
to  the  fire.  "  But  I  must  say  you  have  made  your- 
selves comfortable  in  here.  It's  the  most  beastly 
cold  day  you  can  imagine  outside." 

"Have  you  had  your  breakfast,  Charlie?"  asked 
Paula. 

"Nothing;  I've  come  straight  up  from  Ealing," 
he  answered.    "  I  hurried  back,  thinking  you  might 

feel   dull,   but "    he  raised    his    eyebrows    and 

looked  round  significantly.  Paula  laughed,  and  in 
a  few  extravagant  phrases,  modified  by  Vincent's 
deprecations,  she  gave  him  a  vivid  account  of  the 
previous  evening  and  night.  Charlie  listened  in 
silence,  pouring  himself  out  a  cup  of  coffee  and 
helping  himself  to  some  buttered  toast.  "  I  always 
told  you  Vincent  was  immense,"  he  said  as  she 
finished  ;  "everybody  adores  him." 

"My  dear  Charlie,"  murmured  Vincent,  "you'll 
ruin  my  character  with  all  this  flattery.  Well,  I 
think  the  patient's  fairly  restored  now,"  he  added, 
getting  up,  "  and  I  have  got  to  see  my  agent  in 
the  City  at  eleven,  so  I  must  go.  Can  you  spare 
this    now?"    he    asked,   putting    his    hand    on   his 


ii2  PAULA 

overcoat  lying  on  the  bed.  Paula  said  she  could, 
and  he  drew  it  on. 

"  Good-bye,  dear  ;  take  care  of  yourself,  and  let 
me  hear  what  Reeves  said  about  the  play,  after  all." 

lie  walked  over  to  the  dressing-table  for  his  hat, 
and  Paula  watched  him,  full  of  delightful  emotions. 
To  watch  him  look  in  her  glass,  pick  up  his  gloves 
from  her  toilet-table !  It  was  playing  at  being 
married  to  him  ! 

"  So-long,  Charlie,"  he  said,  as  he  opened  the 
door.  "  Oh,  don't  trouble  to  come  down  with  me. 
My  dear  fellow,  where's  the  occasion  ? " 

As  Vincent  walked  away  from  Lisle  Street,  he 
thought  with  a  smile  how  curiously  relentless  some- 
times a  man's  individual  fate  seemed  to  be.  How 
it  mocked  at  and  overrode  the  precautions  reared 
by  feeble  humanity  as  outworks  before  the  enemy. 
He  had  left  London,  even  England,  to  avoid  her, 
and  then  on  the  second  evening  of  his  coming 
back  she  was  thrown  unexpectedly,  unnecessarily, 
unavoidably,  across  his  path.  He  felt  his  outworks 
had  been  mercilessly  destroyed  in  the  just  past 
night.  Were  the  Greeks  right  when  they  painted 
a  man  but  a  mere  will-less,  powerless  shade,  hurried 
on  to  destruction  or  borne  aloft  in  safety,  impelled 
to  virtue  or  dragged  into  vice  and  misery  and 
shame,  just  as  his  own  ever-accompanying  black- 
winged  Destiny  decided  ? 


"So  that's  your  decision?  You  will  only  produce 
it  on  those  terms?  " 

It  was  Paula's  voice  speaking.  She  was  leaning 
against  the  wall  of  Reeves's  drawing-room,  looking 
up  at  him  as  he  stood  facing  her.  The  electric 
light  shone  down  on  her;  she  was  very  pale,  and 
her  eyes  had  a  tired,  disappointed  look  in  them. 
Reeves  looked  down  upon  her  in  silence,  fumbling 
with  the  roll  of  her  manuscript.  There  was  a  little 
garnet  brooch  at  her  neck.  His  eye  rested  on  it 
mechanically,  and  saw  how  her  heart-beats  made 
it  rise  and  fall.  It  crossed  his  mind  then  that  he 
was  doing  an  unwise  action.  That  which  has  been 
accursed  since  the  world  began — bargaining  for  a 
human  life.  "  Let  her  go,"  said  a  voice  within  him; 
"  take  the  work,  and  let  her  go." 

"Is  it  such  a  very  hard  condition?"  he  mur- 
mured, after  a  minute. 

"Not  in  itself,"  returned  Paula;  "not  to  many 
women — perhaps  not  to  me  under  other  circum- 
stances, but  I'm  given  over  to  another.  Surely  you 
in  8 


H4  PAULA 

would  not  want  to  marry  me,  would  you,  knowing 
that  ? " 

"  What  can  the  other  fellow  do  for  you  ? "  said 
Reeves,  evasively.  "  Can  he  give  you  what  I  can  ? 
— wealth,  fame,  everything?" 

"No,"  answered  Paula,  quietly;  "not  anything; 
but  love  isn't  bought  by  gifts." 

There  was  silence,  in  which  Reeves  looked  at 
her.  It  was  a  pity  that  in  those  moments  her  face 
could  show  no  lines,  only  its  youthful  whiteness,  to 
the  searching  light.  It  was  a  pity  that  the  figure 
had  such  grace,  as  she  leant  wearily  against  the 
wall.  In  those  moments  her  youth  and  attractive- 
ness took  up  arms  with  Reeves  against  her,  and 
she  was  helpless  before  them.  Gifts,  as  she  had 
said,  are  the  handicap  on  the  race  of  life. 

"  No,"  he  said,  suddenly  turning  away  from  her, 
"  there  is  no  other  condition.  As  my  wife,  I'll 
bring  out  the  play  for  you — give  you  a  public  and 
a  future.  If  you  won't  accept  these  terms,  I  have 
no  others  to  offer,"  and  he  flung  the  roll  of  paper 
on  the  table.  "  You  won't  get  any  other  manager 
to  take  it,"  he  said,  after  a  minute,  as  she  did  not 
speak,  only  leant  there  watching  with  absent  eyes 
the  stiff  paper  on  the  table  slowly  uncurl  itself  like 
a  living  thing.  "  You  have  gifts,  but  that  play's 
very  peculiar  and  rather  risky.  I  see  it,  only  I'm 
willing  to  take  the  risk,  and  I  believe  you'll  be 
very  great;  but  I  don't  know  who  else  in  all 
London   except  myself  would  chance  it." 


PAULA  115 

Paula  still  stood  silent.  A  sense  of  helplessness, 
a  weariness  of  everything,  came  over  her.  Here 
was  her  desire  given  into  her  hand.  She  would  be 
very  great.  All  her  dreams,  her  vague  hopes,  her 
longings  of  years  past,  were  here  crystallised  into 
tangible  form  and  pressed  upon  her,  but  now 
weighted  with  a  condition  that  rendered  them 
worthless. 

Reeves  walked  about  the  room  nervously,  then 
came  up  to  her.  "  Why,  my  dear  little  girl,  how 
can  you  hesitate?"  he  said  kindly,  taking  one 
nerveless  hand  in  his  and  holding  it.  "  Don't  you 
understand  how  much  I  can  do  for  you  ?  I  tell 
you,  you'll  have  all  London  at  your  feet,  and  by 
this  time  next  year  your  name  will  be  known 
pretty  well  all  over  the  world." 

He  saw  he  had  touched  one  right  note  at  any 
rate.  Her  eyes  gleamed  as  he  spoke,  and  her 
lips  quivered.  No  more  obscurity  and  nonentity, 
no  more  to  walk  in  the  streets  a  mere  insignificant 
little  unit  of  the  crowd,  with  all  her  powers  locked 
within  her  own  brain,  where  they  fought  and 
struggled  vainly,  destroying  themselves  and  her. 
Here  would  be  life  at  last,  life  for  herself,  and 
immortality  perhaps  for  her  work. 

"  Oh,  Reeves,"  she  said,  suddenly  clasping  his 
hand  with  both  of  hers,  "  do  take  it.  I  don't 
want  any  of  the  money  that  may  come  from  it. 
Take  all  the  profits  from  it  for  yourself,  only 
produce  it  and  let  me  act  in  it.     Don't  ask  mc  to 


u6  PAULA 

tie  myself.  Don't  tempt  me  to  marry  you.  I 
can't  ever  love  you,  I  feel  I  ought  not  to  marry 
you.  It  would  be  a  crime.  I  am  as  good  as 
married  to  somebody  else." 

Reeves's  face  grew  cold  as  he  listened,  and  he 
withdrew  his  hand.  He  felt  the  intense  love  for 
her  work  which  underlay  the  words.  He  heard 
the  accent  of  fear  with  which  she  begged  him  not 
to  tempt  her.  He  felt  sure  with  a  little  diplomacy 
he  could  twist  her  to  his  own  wishes.  She  was 
weak,  helpless,  blind  in  the  intoxication  of  her 
great  desire,  and  he  saw  it. 

"  I  can't  alter  what  I  have  already  said,  if  we 
argue  over  it  for  a  week.  Perhaps,  if  you  feel 
so  strongly  about  the  matter,  you  had  better  take 
back  your  play  and  see  what  you  can  do  with  it 
yourself." 

Paula  was  unnerved,  as  a  mother  who  sees  her 
child  in  danger.  She  drew  herself  up  from  her 
leaning  attitude  and  looked  Reeves  full  in  the  face 
with  her  steady  brilliant  eyes.  His  shifted  and 
fell,  and  moved  uneasily  under  them. 

"  Then  you  want  to  marry  me,  knowing  I  con- 
sent only  for  the  play,  that  I  can't  ever  care  for 
you,  and  that  my  whole  soul  is  given  to  another?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Reeves,  sullenly. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  in  which  Reeves  fid- 
geted about  the  room,  wondering  what  she  was 
thinking  of.  Then  he  came  up  and  stood  in 
front  of  her. 


PAULA  117 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  your  own  victoria 
and  drive  out  in  it  shopping  every  afternoon  ? 
Have  nothing  to  do  all  day  but  amuse  yourself? 
Drive  in  the  Park,  and  have  everybody  turn  their 
heads  to  look  after  you  ?  Wouldn't  that  be  nice, 
eh  ?  " 

Paula  raised  her  eyes  to  him.  To  her,  Vincent's 
figure  seemed  standing  between  them.  "  Very," 
she  answered  coldly,  and  Reeves  saw  she  was 
unmoved. 

"  Then  you  need  only  work  so  little,"  he  re- 
sumed ;  "  all  the  summer  we  would  take  for  our- 
selves. You  have  only  to  say  what  you  would 
like,  to  have  it — a  villa  on  one  of  the  Italian 
lakes,  or  a  yacht  to  go  cruising  in  the  South  seas. 
Surely  it's  not  a  very  terrible  prospect?  " 

Her  eyes  were  still  on  his — an  absent  look  came 
into  them.  All  the  pictures  that  his  words  un- 
folded before  her  seemed  barren  and  dark,  devoid 
of  sunlight,  as  if  he  had  conjured  up  for  her  a 
trip  to  the  Arctic  Ocean ;  and  then,  so  strangely 
does  the  brain  work  sometimes,  she  seemed  to  see 
a  prison  rise  before  her  in  imagination,  a  convict 
yard  with  rows  of  chained,  blistered  human  beings 
bending  to  their  labour  under  the  brazen  beams  of 
a  pitiless  sun.  Somehow  she  felt  to  herself  that 
she  was  there,  chained  and  bowed,  thirsty  and 
suffering,  with  blistered  bleeding  limbs,  and  yet 
happy,  divinely,  satisfyingly  happy,  for  beside  her, 
working   also   in   the  glare,  its   shadow  falling  on 


nS  PAULA 

her,  was  the  figure  that  stood  between  herself  and 
Reeves.  Her  whole  nature  cried  out  in  the  vision. 
The  Italian  lake,  the  Southern  seas,  Reeves's  villa 
and  his  yacht,  were  to  her  blank  and  cheerless; 
while  a  prison,  desert,  or  grave  shared  with  this 
other  seemed  homes  of  passionate  pleasure. 

"  No,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  I  can't  do  it.  I  am 
not  free  to  marry  you."  She  made  a  movement  as 
if  to  leave  altogether  ;  her  face  was  determined. 
Reeves  turned  pale,  and  looked  helplessly  about 
the  room,  as  if  seeking  some  inspiration.  His  eye 
fell  suddenly  on  the  play  itself  lying  on  the  table. 
He  picked  it  up. 

"  Well,  wait  one  moment,"  he  said.  "  Come  and 
sit  down  just  for  a  few  minutes,  and  let  me  read 
you  something  here,  and  see  then  if  you  have  the 
heart  to  bury  it  in  some  back  cupboard  at  home." 

"  What's  the  good  ?  I  must  know  my  own  play, 
surely  ? "  said  Paula,  amused  and  light-hearted 
again,  as  she  felt  her  decision  was  made. 

"  Well,  never  mind  ;  just  to  please  me.  Come." 
Pie  wheeled  forward  the  deep,  comfortable  arm- 
chair she  had  sat  in  that  first  night  at  his  rooms. 
Paula,  always  willing  to  oblige  every  one  where 
possible,  cast  herself  into  it,  clasping  each  arm  of 
it  lightly  in  her  smooth,  soft  hands,  and  looking 
over  at  Reeves  with  unconcealed  derision.  Reeves, 
unmoved,  seated  himself  in  his  chair  and  opened 
the  MS.  in  the  middle,  and  began  to  read.  He 
had  a  large,  supple,  sympathetic  voice,  admirably 


PAULA  119 

adapted  to  reading  aloud,  and  here  he  exerted  his 
skill  to  the  utmost.  It  was  his  last  chance,  and  he 
meant  to  win. 

He  read  on.  There  was  complete  silence  in  the 
room,  and  the  clever  sentences  went  through  it 
like  the  passes  of  polished  rapiers.  After  a  time 
he  stopped  suddenly  and  looked  up.  The  girl 
had  sunk  back  in  the  chair,  her  eyelids  were  closed, 
she  was  deathly  pale,  and  breathing  heavily.  Her 
heart  gave  great  bounds  at  irregular  intervals,  one 
hand  had  slipped  from  the  chair  arm  and  hung 
quivering  to  the  floor ;  her  whole  body  was  tense 
and  trembling.  It  was  the  physical  expression  of 
the  agony  of  the  inward  struggle. 

"  Paula  !  " 

She  opened  her  eyes.     "  Yes." 

"  Is  it  to  live  ?     Shall  I  produce  it  ?  " 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet ;  her  eyes  flamed  out 
of  the  sick,  exhausted  pallor  of  her  face.  "  Yes," 
she  said,  "produce  it." 

"  Then  you  will  marry  mc  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  Darling ! "  exclaimed  Reeves.  He  got  up, 
seized  both  her  hands,  drew  her  into  his  arms,  and 
kissed  her.  Paula  shivered,  and  submitted  pas- 
sively. It  seemed  to  herself  she  had  stepped 
forward  in  the  darkness,  and  slipped  and  fallen 
suddenly  on  the  miry  ground  of  prostitution. 

At  close  upon  eleven  o'clock  a  knock  came  to 
the  door  of  Vincent's  flat.     Vincent  himself  was 


120  PAULA 

on  the  point  of  going  to  bed.  He  had  returned 
not  more  than  half-an-hour  before  from  a  big 
dinner,  where  he  had  been  greatly  bored.  The 
stillness  of  his  rooms  seemed  to  oppress  him,  and 
he  determined  to  turn  in  and  sleep.  He  was  in 
his  bedroom  when  he  heard  that  knock  fall  on  his 
door.  He  paused  in  the  centre  of  the  room  with 
a  slight  smile.  He  recognised  it  directly.  It  was 
Paula's  knock  ;  imperious,  impetuous,  like  none 
other  that  ever  came  there.  He  smiled,  thinking 
how  almost  any  other  woman  coming  at  that  com- 
promising hour  would  have  tried  to  modify  their 
knock  and  veil  their  coming,  if  ever  so  slightly; 
but  that  was  not  Paula.  He  rather  liked  her  for 
her  want  of  care  for  herself  and  her  reputation. 
It  gave  him  more  to  take  care  of.  Thinking  of 
this  now,  he  laid  down  his  watch  he  was  just  pre- 
paring to  wind,  and  crossed  himself  to  the  outer 
door  and  opened  it  to  her.  She  came  past  him 
quickly,  and  went  by  like  a  flash  into  his  sitting- 
room.  He  rclockcd  the  door  quietly;  then  he 
followed  her  back  into  his  room  and  shut  the 
door. 

Paula  came  up  and  seized  both  his  hands. 
"  Tell  me  you're  not  angry  with  me  for  coming ! 
You  don't  mind  my  coining,  do  you?"  she  said 
imploringly,  eagerly,  in  excited  entreaty. 

"No,  of  course  I  am  not;  why  should  I  be?" 
returned  Vincent  in  his  softest  voice,  drawing  the 
pliable  figure,  that  was  trembling  all  over,  into  his 


PAULA  121 

arms,  and  kissing  her  on  the  mouth,  waves  of 
delight  coursing  through  his  blood  as  he  felt  this 
living  joy  at  his  breast.  He  waited  for  her  to 
speak;  but  Paula  lay  silent  in  his  arms,  in  that 
soft,  seducing,  caressing,  tender  embrace. 

Then  suddenly  she  tore  herself  out  of  his  arms. 
"Vincent,  don't,  don't;  I  have  promised  to  marry 
him  ! "  Vincent  drew  away  from  her  a  few  steps 
and  looked  at  her  in  silence.  The  slight,  elegant 
figure,  the  unmoved  face,  with  its  dark  eyebrows 
and  grave  eyes  she  was  accustomed  to  see 
soften  for  her,  swam  before  her  sight,  and  seemed 
to  gather  into  them  all  that  was  of  account  to  her 
in  this  life.  Her  eyelids  quivered  with  a  rush  of 
fresh  tears,  and  the  next  moment  she  had  thrown 
herself  down  along  the  ground,  and  her  soft  cheek 
and  lips  were  pressed  upon  his  feet.  Nobody  but 
Paula  could  have  done  it,  but  to  her  the  action 
was  easy,  natural ;  her  flexible  body  had  been 
trained  to  express  emotions,  as  a  voice  or  face, 
and  the  action,  which  with  almost  any  other  woman 
would  have  been  theatrical,  affected,  awkward,  or 
absurd,  was  with  her  simple  and  beautiful,  because 
so  absolutely  natural.  Vincent  thought  he  had 
never  seen  anything  so  inimitably  graceful  as  the 
fall    and    the    figure    that    lay    upon    the  ground. 

.And   was   another   man ?     The  thought  went 

into  him  like  a  dagger. 

"Oh,  do  forgive  me,"  she  sobbed;  "don't  look 
at  me  like  that.     Tell  me  what  to  do,  and  I'll  do 


122  PAULA 

it."  He  felt  her  hot  lips  and  the  pressure  of  her 
cheek  on  his  instep.  He  bent  down  and  lifted  her 
under  her  arms,  and  drew  her  up  to  him.  Then 
he  sat  down  in  one  of  the  huge  purple  chairs,  and 
gathered  her  into  his  arms  and  pressed  her  head 
upon  his  shoulder. 

"  You  are  angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  No,  not  angry,  only  surprised." 

"Do  you  care  whether  I  marry  or  not?" 

A  feverish  tightening  of  his  arms  about  her  was 
the  only  response.  "  Who  is  the  man  ?  "  he  asked, 
after  a  minute. 

"  Reeves." 

"  I  should  feel  I  ought  not  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  any  one  who  would  marry  you,"  he  said 
constrainedly. 

"Oh,  Vincent,  it  isn't  that  at  all.  It's  for  the 
play!" 

"  What  play  ?  " 

"  Why,  mine;  he  will  produce  it,  make  me,  give 
me  to  the  world,  if — if  I  marry  him." 

"  I  see,  it's  a  trade,"  rejoined  Vincent,  with  a 
slight  bitter  smile. 

"  Yes ;  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do." 

Her  soft  lips  were  in  his  neck,  one  hand,  burn- 
ing and  trembling,  pressed  his  cheek  and  tried  to 
turn  his  averted  face  to  hers. 

"  I  can't,  not  at  once  in  this  way.  I  must  have 
time  to  think." 

"  I  thought  it  was  all   settled,"  she   said,   lying 


PAULA  123 

with  a  sort  of  despairing  passivity  in  his  arms,  and 
pushing  the  hair  back  from  her  forehead.  "  When 
I  had  his  note  saying  he  had  accepted  it,  and  I 
was  to  go  and  see  him,  I  was  so  happy.  I  thought 
I  was  free,  that  it  would  be  a  great  success,  and 
after  its  run  here  you  would  take  me  touring  with 
it  in  the  provinces.  You  would  have  done  that, 
wouldn't  you  ?  "  She  turned  a  little  in  his  clasp, 
easily  as  a  child  turns  in  its  bed,  and  raised  her 
face  upwards  to  him. 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Vincent  from  between  his 
compressed  lips. 

"  I  wanted  my  liberty  so  much.  There's  no 
liberty  where  there's  poverty,  but  this  will  be 
only  exchanging  the  tie  of  poverty  for  the  tie  of 
marriage," 

There  was  silence  in  the  room,  then,  following 
her  last  word,  Vincent  held  her  to  him,  sitting 
silent  and  motionless,  while  a  tide  of  feelings  he 
hardly  recognised,  and  to  which  he  could  not 
give  a  name,  seemed  to  sweep  across  him.  It 
always  needs  a  rival  to  teach  a  man  how  much  he 
loves  a  woman.  Her  own  virtue,  her  own  charm, 
her  own  sweetness,  has  not  one-tenth  the  power  to 
rouse  his  passions  as  the  approach  of  another  man. 
Paula,  living  close  to  him,  loving  him,  devoted 
solely  to  him,  with  all  her  powers  of  attraction 
could  not  move  Vincent  as  these  words  of  Reeves 
and  marriage  on  her  lips.  Women  value  men 
according   to   their   own    desire   for    them.      Men 


124  PAULA 

value  women  according  to  the  desire  of  others 
for  them. 

"  Let  me  get  up,"  said  Paula,  after  a  minute  in  a 
stifled  voice.  "  In  your  arms  I  can  think  of  nothing 
but  you;  and  I  must,  I  must  try  to  think  what  I'm 
to  do.     Let  me  go." 

Vincent  released  her,  and  she  got  up  and  took 
her  place  in  the  chair  opposite  him  and  leant 
towards  the  fire.  She  shivered  and  looked  white 
and  ill. 

"  You  see,"  she  said,  "  it's  a  great  chance  for 
me,  a  great  opening,  and  perhaps  the  only  one. 
I  have  tried  to  get  my  plays  accepted  in  the 
ordinary  way,  but  no  one  will  look  at  them  and 
consider  them.  Here,  in  this  case,  Reeves  will 
simply  make  me  ;  he  will  produce  the  play  in  the 
best  possible  way,  under  the  best  conditions,  and 
I  have  the  principal  part  in  it.  He  says  I  have 
exceptional  talent,  that  I  shall  be  a  great  success, 
the  success  perhaps  of  the  century.  Is  it  worth 
marrying  him  for?  " 

She  put  both  elbows  on  the  table  by  her  and 
leant  her  chin  on  them,  gazing  across  at  him.  She 
looked  terribly  white  and  haggard,  worried  and 
unhappy,  and  half  the  colour  and  beauty  of  her 
face  at  other  times  was  taken  from  it,  but  to 
Vincent  it  appeared  now  in  the  light  of  the  other 
man's  passion,  holding,  as  it  had  never  done  yet. 

"If  you  don't  care  for  the  man,  it's  a  simple 
sale  of  yourself,  that's  all,"  he  returned.     His  own 


PAULA  125 

face  had  grown  as  white  as  hers,  and  she  saw  the 
lines  hardening  round  his  mouth. 

"  You  know  I  don't  care  for  him,"  said  Paula, 
passionately.  Vincent's  face  grew  paler  yet,  and  set 
till  it  looked  rigid  and  white  as  the  marble  mantel- 
piece beside  him.  Pie  started  up  and  walked  up 
and  down  a  length  of  the  room  in  silence. 

"  I  can't  let  you  do  it,"  he  said  at  last,  suddenly. 
"  It  is  a  sheer  simple  prostitution,  loathsome,  un- 
natural. Nothing  would  reconcile  you  to  it.  No 
success  would  be  worth  it.  It  would  be  a  life  of 
wretchedness  for  you.     Give  up  the  idea." 

"  Then  what  can  I  do  ? "  she  said,  wearily 
leaning  back  in  her  chair.  "  There  seems  no 
way  of  getting  my  work  taken  otherwise,  and 
you  see  what  I  am,  a  hundredth-rate  actress, 
not  even  that  now,  and  with  no  money  and 
no  position  ;  and  you  I  may  lose  at  any  minute 
— you  don't  care  for  me  much.  You  would 
not  marry  me."  Her  voice  quivered  violently. 
Vincent  looked  at  her  and  saw  the  blue  eyes 
swimming ;  two  great  heavy  tears  rolled  from  the 
lids  and  fell  down  the  bloodless  checks.  She  got 
up  and  tried  to  turn  from  him.  Vincent  came 
towards  her. 

"What  is  it?  Come  to  me,"  and  he  stretched 
out  his  arms.  All  his  tenderness  and  love  excited 
by  herself,  all  his  passion  roused  by  the  thought  of 
the  other  man.  As  she  still  shrank  from  him, 
trying  to  check  her  tears,  he  came  closer  and  drew 


126  PAULA 

her  to  him.  "  I  will  marry  you,  Paula,  rather  than 
give  you  up  to  that  fellow  Reeves — so  let  us  settle 
it.  I  can't  bear  to  see  those  great  big  tears." 
Paula,  looking  up,  saw  that  the  pallor  had  passed 
from  his  face ;  it  was  flushed  and  smiling  and 
human-looking  now  as  it  bent  over  her.  "  Won't 
that  make  you  happy  ?  " 

Paula  put  both  arms  round  him  and  burst 
into  a  passion  of  sobs.  "Oh  yes,  yes,  as  long 
as  you  cared  for  me,  but  you  may  not.  Charlie 
says " 

"Well,  what?"  asked  Vincent,  a  slight  hardness 
coming  into  his  voice. 

"  That  you  have  loved  lots  of  women,  that  you 
don't  care  for  any  of  them  long,  that  you  go  from 
one  to  the  other.  Will  you  continue  to  love  me  ? 
If  not — even  if  we  were  married " 

"We  can't  say  anything  for  the  future,"  returned 
Vincent;  "I  know  nothing  about  that.  Why  trouble 
about  it  ?  We  love  each  other  very  much  now. 
Hadn't  we  better  take  what  the  present  offers,  and 
leave  the  future  to  look  after  itself?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know;  it's  all  so  complicated,  and 
I  can't  think  now.  My  head  seems  spinning  round, 
and  I  must  go,  Vincent,"  she  added,  freeing  herself 
from  him,  and  looking  at  the  clock.  "  I  can't 
decide  anything.  You  think  it  all  over,  and  decide 
for  us  both." 

"Nature  has  decided  it  already,  dear,  I  think," 
said   Vincent,   smiling.     "  I'm    coming   back   with 


PAULA  127 

you,"  he  added,  as  she  picked  up  the  little  velvet 
hat  she  had  thrown  in  one  of  the  chairs. 

The  walk  back  to  her  house  was  very  silent. 
She  felt  dazed,  incapable  of  thought.  She  put  her 
arm  through  Vincent's,  and  let  it  lean  there  with  a 
sense  of  exquisite  pleasure.  Could  the  success  of 
any  play,  the  triumph  of  any  art,  give  her  more 
than  this  ?  Art,  success,  triumph,  may  have  their 
own  rewards,  their  own  pleasure  ;  but  the  subtlest, 
keenest,  sweetest,  most  satisfying  joys  remain  for 
ever  locked  in  Nature's  hands. 

The  following  afternoon,  early,  Vincent  walked 
round  to  Lisle  Street.  The  air  was  crisp  and 
bright,  full  of  the  winter  sunlight.  Piccadilly  was 
crowded  with  well-dressed  men  and  women,  and 
bright  faces  stung  into  colour  by  the  sharp,  small 
wind.  Everything  looked  bright  and  cheery,  and 
British  and  common-place,  at  three  o'clock  this 
February  afternoon.  Vincent  walked  on  with  a 
light  heart  and  a  pleasing  animation  within  him. 
It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  never  ques- 
tioned the  wisdom  of  a  course  once  decided  on, 
and  seldom  turned  back  from  it  for  any  considera- 
tion. As  he  walked  now,  it  never  occurred  to  him 
to  think  over  the  wisdom  or  unwisdom  of  the 
step  he  had  taken.  Any  hesitation  was  over  and 
done  with  before  he  had  let  the  decisive  words 
pass  his  lips  to  Paula  last  night.  Now  he  was 
only  engaged  in  pleasant  visions  of  the  future,  and 
thoughts  of  the  woman  who  would  share  it.    Under 


123  PAULA 

the  influence  of  his  passion  for  her,  she  seemed  to 
him  the  condition  of  his  life  "  both  necessary  and 
sufficient,"  as  they  say  in  mathematics  ;  and  as 
she  was  attained,  he  did  not  trouble  to  think  of 
anything  else  just  then.  To  marry  her  quietly, 
and  take  her  away  to  Cairo  within  the  following 
week,  and  then  on  to  Australia,  was  the  plan  he 
was  building  up  in  his  brain  as  he  went  along. 

As  he  entered  the  small  dark  room  from  the 
outside  air,  he  was  vaguely  conscious  of  stepping 
into  another  atmosphere,  metaphorically  as  well 
as  actually.  It  was  very  dark  inside,  and  the  air 
so  laden  with  tobacco  smoke  that  he  could  hardly 
see  across  it.  There  was  a  faint  scent  of  opium, 
too,  that  weighed  upon  the  senses.  The  fire 
burned  in  a  cavernous  red  hollow,  sheets  of  loose 
paper  lay  upon  the  table,  and  after  the  first  second 
his  eyes  descried  the  form  of  the  girl  herself  lying 
on  the  couch  beneath  the  window.  She  had  a 
white  dressing-gown  on  with  open  sleeves  falling 
back  from  her  arms,  which  were  clasped  above  her 
head,  and  her  hair  fell  over  the  edge  of  the  low 
couch  and  touched  the  floor.  The  whole  formed 
a  sharp  contrast  to  the  bustling,  practical  British 
outside,  and  would  have  struck  disagreeably  on 
many  men,  but  Vincent  was  in  himself  peculiar, 
and  the  scene  amused  him  rather  than  anything 
else,  while  the  air  of  supine  decadence  about  the 
picture  was  rather  a  relief  to  the  perpetual 
Philistinism  with  which  he  was  always  surrounded 


PAULA  129 

and  never  in  sympathy.  He  came  up  to  the  sofa 
with  a  smile,  and  would  have  lifted  her  in  his  arms 
but  that  she  started  up  as  he  approached,  and 
something  in  her  face  made  him  retreat  a  little 
and  stand  motionless.  It  was  pale,  and  her 
eyes  looked  unnaturally  bright,  with  the  pupils 
widely  dilated  in  them  as  if  by  fear  or  pain,  or 
both. 

"Are  you  ill,  dear?"  he  said  in  his  softest  voice, 
that  voice  that  when  Paula  heard  it  always  seemed 
to  rouse  in  her  the  thirst  to  hear  it  again. 

"  No ;  at  least  not  physically."  She  crossed  to 
the  mantelpiece  as  she  spoke,  and  then  stood 
leaning  there  with  her  back  to  it.  She  took  a 
paper  and  some  tobacco,  and  began  to  roll  herself 
a  cigarette  in  her  quick,  dexterous  fingers ;  the 
action  seemed  quite  mechanical  and  unconscious, 
the  result  of  extreme  mental  nervousness  and 
tension  and  suppressed  excitement. 

Vincent  watched  her  in  silence.  Her  hands 
were  not  the  least  of  her  attractions.  They  were 
very  white  and  singularly  smooth,  slim,  but  yet 
with  every  bone  beautifully  encased  and  concealed, 
and  a  faint  rose  flush  at  each  finger  tip. 

"  It's  no  use  our  seeing  each  other  any  more," 
she  said  in  rather  a  strained  voice,  looking  down 
at  the  cigarette  as  she  rolled  it.  "  I  have  quite 
made  up  my  mind,  quite  decided  to  marry  Reeves, 
and  get  the  play  out" 

The   words   fell    upon    Vincent    like    so    many 

9 


130  PAULA 

distinct  cuts  with  a  sword,  but  he  gave  not  the 
slightest  indication  of  pain,  nor  even  of  surprise. 

"  After  all  we  said  last  night,"  he  merely  answered. 

"What  did  we  say?"  returned  Paula,  running 
the  cigarette  along  her  crimson  lips  to  damp  the 
gummed  edge,  and  looking  at  him  over  it  with 
blazing  eyes  as  she  did  so.  "Nothing  very  definite, 
I  think;  but  anyway  if  we  did,  it's  just  the  same: 
it's  all  rescinded,  anything  I  said,  cancelled  by  a 
stronger  power  than  myself." 

Vincent  did  not  answer.  At  all  times  he  was 
greater  at  acts  than  words,  and  just  now  the  great 
pain  he  was  passing  through  deprived  him  of  what- 
ever power  he  did  possess  over  language. 

"  I  am  forced  to  do  what  I  am  going  to  do," 
said  Paula,  after  a  second's  silence;  "  I  can't  help 
myself." 

A  sudden  pallor  came  over  Vincent's  face, 
together  with  a  look  of  clearer  comprehension. 
Who's  forcing  you?"  he  asked  quickly.  "Reeves? 
Has  he? — have  you " 

"  Oh  no,"  returned  Paula  hastily,  divining  his 
thought,  and  smiling  at  his  literal  interpretation  of 
her  words — "Oh  no,  I  belong  to  you  wholly,  all 
that  part  of  me  that's  human,  much  more  than  I 
shall  ever  belong  to  Reeves.  I  meant  a  greater 
power  altogether.  Necessity,  the  to  xpvv  of 
the  Greeks — they  arc  horrible  words."  She  sat 
down  on  the  end  of  the  sofa.  She  was  trembling 
and  looking  wretchedly  ill.     Vincent  stood  motion- 


PAULA  131 

less,  half  paralysed  by  the  shock  of  her  first  words. 
Instinctively  he  felt  they  were  true,  and  the  matter 
irrevocably  fixed.  Explanations,  whys  and  where- 
fores, would  be  given  him,  but  what  did  they 
matter?  His  consciousness  had  run  forward,  as  it 
were,  and  gripped  the  great  effect  out  of  the  saw- 
dust and  chaff  of  its  causes.  It  was  everything 
to  him,  they  nothing. 

"  Do  you  understand  ?  "  the  girl  said  feverishly. 

"  Not  altogether,"  replied  Vincent  coldly,  sitting 
down  too,  in  the  old  leather  chair,  and  leaning  one 
elbow  on  the  table  beside  him.  "  What  necessity 
is  there  for  you  to  marry  the  man  you  don't  like, 
instead  of  the  one  you  do  ?  " 

"  The  necessity  that  it  is  the  quickest  way  of 
working  out  my  own  powers ;  the  necessity  for 
working  them  out  lies  in  the  powers  themselves. 
Don't  you  remember  how  I  told  you  the  first  day 
I  saw  you  how  gifts  are  a  handicap  on  the  race  of 
life?  They  are,  if  the  goal  is  happiness  ;  certainly 
they  are.  They  are  just  so  many  obligations,  so 
many  ties,  and  claims,  and  chains.  You  are  born 
into  the  world  already  apprenticed,  as  it  were ; 
your  own  will  and  desires  go  for  nothing.  You 
are  simply  dominated  by  the  great  despot  that  is 
enthroned  within  you.  Your  talent,  whatever  it 
is,  makes  you  work  for  it.  I  don't  suppose  I  can 
explain  further  to  you,  Vincent,  if  we  talk  for 
ages,"  she  said,  getting  up  and  walking  excitedly 
about  the  room.     "  I  can  only  say  this,  that  when 


132  PAULA 

any  gift  is  bestowed  upon  you,  the  irresistible 
impulse  to  use  it  is  given  too  ;  that  when  by 
any  divine  power  the  brain  is  fertilised,  it  must 
produce,  just  as  when  a  woman  has  once  conceived 
she  must  bring  forth." 

Vincent  gazed  at  her  fixedly  as  she  paced  up 
and  down  the  tiny  space  free  in  the  little  cramped 
room,  while  the  burning,  excited  words  in  the 
musical  voice  seemed  to  fall  upon  him  as  sparks 
upon  his  flesh.  All  the  attraction  this  wildly 
excitable  temperament,  this  intensely  vital  organ- 
isation possessed  for  him,  crept  over  him,  invaded 
him,  gripped  him  in  an  intolerable  vice. 

"Do  you  understand  any  better?"  she  said, 
suddenly  stopping  before  him.  He  took  one  of 
the  smooth  hands,  so  soft  and  weak,  yet  that  pos- 
sessed such  an  immense  power  over  him.  It  burnt 
like  flame,  and  sent  its  quick  fire  through  him. 

"A  little;  but  what  happiness  will  there  be  for 
either  if  we  are  separated  ?  "  he  murmured,  looking 
up  at  her. 

"  I  see  you  don't  understand,"  she  said,  with- 
drawing her  hand  and  continuing  her  excited  walk. 
"  There  is  no  happiness  for  me,  there  can't  be. 
You  will  find  yours  elsewhere.  I  shall  never  find 
any.  People  like  me  never  do.  The  gods  give 
them  gifts  which  raise  them  to  their  own  level ; 
then  they  get  jealous  of  them  :  they  grudge  what 
they  have  given,  but  they  cannot  take  back  their 
gifts,   so   they    strike   at   the    individual    and    his 


PAULA  133 

individual  happiness  :  that  they  can  do,  and  they 
do  it.  The  old  Greek  metaphor  has  been  proved 
through  thousands  of  years ;  it  is  not  a  metaphor, 
but  a  fact  and  a  truth — the  envy  of  the  gods.  To 
be  happy  one  must  be  insignificant,  plain,  and 
stupid.  Then  one  is  free,  one  has  no  obligations, 
no  responsibilities  ;  one  can  enjoy  one's  own  life  ; 
one  is  not  sold  into  bondage  at  one's  birth.  One 
must  have  nothing  that  can  excite  the  jealousy  of 
Heaven.  If  one  has,  one's  life  is  a  mere  slavery; 
a  working,  a  ceaseless  labour  to  please  those  gods 
that  smite  us  down  in  the  moment  of  our  triumph, 
because  we  have  attained  to  divine  things, — be- 
cause we  are  one  of  them,  and  they  envy  us." 

Vincent  involuntarily  glanced  round,  there 
seemed  little  enough  in  her  present  surroundings 
to  excite  the  envy  of  the  most  egoistic  god. 
Paula  noted,  and  read  his  glance  instantly. 
Nothing  could  have  been  so  fatal  to  his  hopes 
of  moving  her. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  she  said  vehemently,  facing  him, 
her  whole  form  trembling  with  the  intensity  of  the 
emotions  vibrating  through  her.  "  I  know  it  seems 
ridiculous  to  talk  as  I  am  talking,  here  in  this  little 
den,  an  ordinary  commonplace  individual  as  I  am. 
I  seem  absurd,  conceited,  mad  or  intoxicated,  I 
daresay.  Well,  that  is  why  I  •  mean  to  prove 
myself  to  you,  to  the  world,  to  every  one.  Why 
should  you  believe,  why  should  any  one  believe 
anything  till  it  is  proved?     You  would  be  fools  if 


134  PAULA 

you  did.  I  don't  expect  you  to.  I  don't  care.  I 
don't  want  belief.  I  shouldn't  care  if  you  did 
believe.  I  want  you  to  know.  I  know  what  I  can 
do.  You  shall  know  too.  That's  why  I  am  sell- 
ing myself,  because  it  is  the  necessary  price.  Come 
on  the  night  the  play  is  produced.  Come,  and  I 
defy  you  then  to  deny  I  am  what  I  claim  to  be." 
As  she  stood  in  the  dim  light,  her  expanded  eyes 
torn  wide  open,  and  seeming  to  burn  with  inward 
fire,  her  nostrils  dilated,  her  bosom  rising  and 
falling  as  the  breath  came  and  went  through  her 
parted  lips,  it  was  not  difficult  to  believe  her 
anything  she  might  claim  to  be. 

The  Greeks  unscrupulously  confused  together 
excitement,  enthusiasm,  and  divinity.  When  their 
priestess  at  Delphi  became  excited  and  enthu- 
siastic, they  called  her  inspired  and  divine,  and 
they  were  right.  There  is  a  touch  of  divinity  in 
all  human  enthusiasm.  It  alone  can  command 
and  make  possible  the  impossible.  Vincent  started 
up,  completely  carried  away  on  the  stream  of  her 
emotion,  dominated  by  her  influence,  thrilled 
through  by  her  electricity. 

"  I  don't  deny  anything.  Haven't  I  always 
sympathised  with  your  talents  and  your  powers  ? 
My  sweet,  these  are  what  I  love  you  for ;  but  why 
not  make  me  the  instrument  for  producing  them  ? 
Can't  I  do  for  you  all  that  Reeves  can  ?  Come 
and  talk  to  me  practically,  Paula."  Pie  approached 
her,   took   her  two    hands   and   drew   her  towards 


PAULA  135 

him.  His  face  was  alight  with  the  tenclcrcst  love 
and  admiration.  She  yielded,  and  came  and  stood 
:lose  to  him,  and  looked  up. 

"  Can  you  bring  out  the  play  at  once  ? "  she 
asked  merely.  She  seemed  singularly  hard  and 
unapproachable  ;  wrapped  round  in  that  peculiar 
coldness,  almost  brutality,  that  seems  inseparable 
from  the  artistic  nature,  and  always  co-existent 
with  its  passionate  ardour,  its  impulsive  sympathy. 
With  divine  powers  seems  lent  also  at  times  the 
utter  impersonality  and  impartiality  of  a  deity. 

"  I  would  try,  but  I  am  afraid  I  could  not 
immediately.  I  must  go  out  again  and  see  after 
my  own  affairs — they  are  dreadfully  embarrassed 
at  the  present  minute;  but  in  a  year  or  eighteen 
months'  time  I  could  do  it." 

Paula  twisted  away  her  hands  and  stood  clear 
from  him.  "  Delay  means  uncertainty,  and  I 
can't  risk  it.  The  great  Now  is  the  only  moment 
in  life  worth  counting  on.  I  have  promised  Reeves 
to  marry  him  on  the  same  day  as  the  play  is 
brought  out.  That  is  only  about  two  months  from 
now." 

"It  is  utterly  horrible;  I  can't  believe  you  will 
do  it." 

"  I  am  going  to." 

"  I  warn  you  not  to.  It's  madness.  You  can't 
set  aside  your  own  nature."  He  was  standing 
facing  her.  He  made  no  further  attempt  to  take 
her  hand,  but  his  face  was  white  and  drawn  with 


136  PAULA 

pain  and  anxiety.  "  If  I  saw  you  about  to  cut 
your  throat  with  a  razor  I  could  not  feel  more 
acutely.  You  may  not  see  the  future,  but  I  do  if 
you  marry  that  man,  or  any  man,  without  love." 

"  I  can't  help  it,  I  must  do  it." 

"  Very  well,  you  will  regret  it." 

There  was  no  answer.  Vincent  took  his  hat  and 
walked  to  the  door  without  another  word.  Paula 
did  not  seek  to  detain  him.  What  was  the  good  ? 
She  had  already  set  aside  her  nature,  resolved  to 
trample  on  its  impulses  and  disobey  its  laws. 

Vincent  walked  out  of  Lisle  Street,  and  went 
slowly  in  the  direction  of  his  own  place.  When  he 
reached  his  room,  he  flung  himself  on  the  sofa  and 
lay  there  with  closed  eyes.  He  felt  strangely 
exhausted.  His  nerves  seemed  collapsing,  running 
down  like  the  strings  of  an  instrument  that  has 
been  tuned  beyond  the  pitch  at  which  it  will  stand. 
It  was  one  of  the  most  charming  traits  in  Vincent's 
character  his  utter  lack  of  appreciation  of  self.  It 
had  been  one  of  the  qualities  Paula  most  had 
loved  in  him.  It  seemed  marvellous  to  her  self- 
confident,  arrogant  nature  that  any  one  could 
possess  so  much  and  seem  to  recognise  their 
possessions  so  little;  could  have  so  great  a  charm 
for  others  and  be  so  unconscious  of  it  himself; 
could  habitually  so  undervalue  his  own  powers, 
his  own  good  looks.  Certainly  Vincent  did  so; 
as  he  lay  there  now,  he  was  conscious  of  suffering 
acutely,  but  his  suffering  did  not   seem   unjust  nor 


PAULA  137 

unreasonable.  It  seemed  natural  that  the  girl 
should  refuse  to  sacrifice  her  work  to  himself. 
What  had  he  to  offer  for  a  young  life  and  an 
intellect  like  this?  To  him,  with  his  innate  generous 
appreciation  of  others  and  diffidence  of  self,  he 
seemed  to  have  so  little.  When  at  six  his  servant 
came  in  with  a  tray  on  which  were  his  tea  things, 
he  did  not  stir,  and  when  an  hour  later  the  man 
came  to  fetch  them,  they  were  still  untouched,  and 
his  master  was  still  lying  motionless  on  the  couch 
with  his  hand  over  his  eyes. 


VI 


The  following  two  months  were  perhaps  the  best 
Paula  ever  knew.  They  were  full  of  animation, 
each  day  of  them  beat  hard  with  the  pulse  of  life. 
She  felt  herself,  realised  herself,  then  fully  for  the 
first  time  ;  as  it  were,  knew  that  she  was  living,  and 
saw  that  her  life  was  an  important  thing  for  herself 
and  others.  It  was  the  period,  too,  of  expectation 
and  anticipation,  full  of  happy,  eager,  tremulous 
longing  and  looking  forward,  which  kept  all  her 
feelings  excited  and  her  life-stream  flowing  at  high 
pressure.  They  were  now  at  the  end  of  February, 
the  piece  was  to  be  produced  in  May,  and  they 
were  busy  with  rehearsals,  and  with  finding  suitable 
people  for  the  parts.  Reeves  humoured  Paula  in 
every  way,  and  she  was  an  implacable  tyrant  in 
everything  where  the  play  was  concerned.  She 
was  careless,  indifferent,  yielding  on  every  point,  in 
every  way,  in  all  her  character,  except  where  her 
art  was  in  question,  and  here  she  was  immovable, 
obdurate  even  to  cruelty.  There  was  but  one  way 
in  which  everything  was  to  be  done,  every  detail 

138 


PAULA  139 

managed,  and  that  was  the  right  way.     So  Paula 
would  have  it  done,  and  not  otherwise. 

And  her  artistic  instinct  was  unerring.  She 
never  failed  here  nor  made  a  mistake.  Eye  and 
ear  were  equally  correct,  and  her  judgment  fault- 
less and  absolutely  unswerving.  A  single  gesture 
would  have  to  be  repeated  a  thousand  times,  if  she 
were  not  satisfied  with  it.  Placed  sometimes  in 
her  stall  in  front  with  Reeves  beside,  and  her 
brother  and  Austin  Davies  on  the  other  side  of 
her,  she  would  sit,  frowning  and  implacable,  and 
insist  that  a  certain  line  was  spoken  wrongly,  and 
have  it  repeated  and  repeated  till  every  one  but 
herself  was  weary  and  impatient,  and  urged  her  to 
be,  or  at  least  to  seem,  satisfied.  But  Paula  would 
not  give  way. 

"I  don't  care,"  she  would  say  coldly;  "it  isn't 
right,  and  you  must  go  on  till  you  get  it  so." 
Reeves,  tired  though  he  might  be,  hypercritical  as 
he  might  think  her,  was  too  proud  and  too  fond  of 
her  to  do  less  than  back  her  up,  so  she  sat  on 
frowning  and  attentive,  and  the  others  waited 
yawning,  and  the  actor  or  actress  went  through 
the  faulty  fragment  again  and  again  till  his  or  her 
throat  ached.  Generally  under  Paula's  directions 
the  right  thing  was  obtained  at  last,  and  then 
Paula  would  rise  at  once.  "  That's  it,  you've 
got  it.  You've  arrived,"  she  would  say;  and 
then  turning  to  the  others,  "  Now  don't  you 
see  that  that's  a  different  thing  altogether.     Wasn't 


1 4o  PAULA 

I     right?"      And    they   had    to    admit   that   she 
was. 

Paula  enjoyed  those  afternoons  of  rehearsal, 
whether  she  was  on  the  stage  or  guiding  the 
others  from  the  house.  Her  whole  daring,  clever, 
active  spirit  rose  to  the  work.  She  embraced  it 
passionately,  ardently.  She  was  full  of  that  en- 
thusiasm that  clears  away  all  difficulties  before  it, 
and  can  make  success  out  of  the  poorest  materials. 
And  here  everything  favoured  her.  She  saw  her 
advantages  were  exceptional,  and  meant  to  use 
them  to  the  full.  Reeves  being  entirely  devoted 
to  her,  her  word  was  law  inside  the  theatre:  no 
one  dared  to  contradict  nor  to  withstand  her.  It 
became  her  world,  and  she  ruled  in  it  despotically. 
It  was  the  kingdom  for  which  she  had  sold  herself, 
and  she  meant  that  it  should  repay  her.  Not 
that  she  was  disliked  within  it.  Real  power,  real 
abilities,  always  grind  out  a  certain  admiration 
and  respect  from  surrounding  lower  minds.  In  all 
these  weeks  she  was  wholly  artist.  The  woman 
seemed  to  have  died  in  her  when  she  parted  with 
Halham.  She  rarely  thought  of  him,  and  never 
alluded  to  him. 

She  thought  she  had  risen  superior  to  her  nature, 
certainly  it  did  not  trouble  her.  She  was  gloriously 
happy  in  the  abstract  pleasure  of  her  work  and  her 
art,  delighted  with  all  the  mental  emotions  she 
went  through  daily,  the  glow  of  flattered  vanity, 
of  satisfied  pride  and  gratified  ambition.     She  was 


PAULA  141 

under  the  influence  of  a  mental  intoxication,  which 
is  a  state  as  clearly  defined,  and  one  as  fatal  to  the 
true  perception  of  things,  as  physical  intoxication. 

Reeves  wisely  did  not  attempt  to  interrupt  the 
current  of  affairs  that  seemed  flowing  so  much 
in  the  direction  of  his  wishes.  He  was  Paula's 
devoted  slave  in  the  theatre,  the  sharp,  powerful 
tool  with  which  she  carved  everything  there  to  her 
own  ideas,  and  at  all  other  times  he  encompassed 
her  with  a  fine  indulgent  fatherly  affection  which 
was  so  subdued  and  unobtrusive  that  Paula  really 
hardly  noticed  it  in  the  stress  of  all  her  other 
feelings.  She  grew  very  fond  of  him  too,  in  an 
affectionate,  careless  sort  of  way  that  left  all  the 
deeper  springs  of  her  nature  quite  untouched. 
The  strange  waves  of  emotions  that  had  upheaved 
in  her  at  the  approach  of  the  other  man  had  sunk 
again  to  a  flat  level,  passed  over  and  gone  by. 
She  had  almost  forgotten  them.  The  idea  that 
one  day  they  might  rise  again  and  sweep  every- 
thing before  them,  would  have  seemed  ludicrous, 
had  it  been  suggested  to  her.  However,  there  was 
nothing  to  suggest  it.  Halham  had  gone,  and 
remained  away,  and  Reeves  was  careful  not  to 
alarm  nor  even  rouse  her  numbed  susceptibilities. 
He  never  approached  the  subject  of  love  with  her, 
and  their  lips  never  met.  A  kiss  dropped  on  her 
soft  hair,  sometimes  at  parting  with  her,  was  the 
greatest  licence  he  allowed  himself,  and  she  ceased 
to  feel  dislike,  or  fear,  or  repulsion,  as  she  found 


142  PAULA 

there  was  no  coercion  and  no  restraint  put  upon  her. 
At  the  theatre,  where  her  enviable  position  might 
have  made  her  the  object  of  jealous  hatred,  she 
became  after  the  first  few  weeks  extremely  popular. 
She  was  one  of  those  natures  that  love  being- 
loved  by  their  fellows,  and  outside  the  questions 
of  her  art  she  took  some  trouble  to  be  amiable,  and 
to  conciliate  every  one  she  came  in  contact  with. 
Her  sympathies  were  naturally  very  quick,  and  the 
least  suffering  she  became  cognisant  of  called  them 
forth.  A  sprained  ankle  or  a  chapped  arm  amongst 
any  of  the  girls  belonging  to  the  staff  excited  her 
pity  and  drew  some  compensation  from  her.  And 
so  the  two  months  slipped  by,  and  in  a  waking 
dream,  in  a  blind  mental  drunkenness,  Paula  walked 
onward  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice. 


VII 


The  morning  of  the  fifth  of  May  broke  clear  and 
brilliant,  the  dawning  was  like  a  divine  smile  upon 
the  earth.  Paula  opened  her  eyes  in  the  twilight 
of  her  white-curtained  bed,  as  the  first  rose  of  dawn 
gleamed  on  the  windows  :  and  then  let  her  lids 
close  languidly  again  with  a  sigh.  The  burden  of 
this  day  and  its  responsibilities — its  great  issues  of 
success  or  failure,  its  great  possibilities,  its  great 
uncertainties — seemed  in  that  moment  of  first 
awakening  too  heavy  to  be  borne.  She  lay  idle, 
motionless,  in  the  bed  with  her  eyes  closed,  and 
her  hair  loose  and  disordered  on  the  pillow,  her 
face  as  pale  as  the  linen.  She  had  had  little  sleep 
the  nisfht  before,  and  that  little  overshadowed  with 
a  sense  of  oppression  that  had  weighed  on  the 
tired  brain  all  night,  and  forced  it  to  awake  now  at 
the  first  dawn.  It  was  her  wedding-day — a  day 
by  some  women  looked  upon  as  the  most  eventful 
of  their  lives,  but  to  Paula,  if  the  fact  was  even 
present  to  her  remembrance  just  then,  it  seemed  as 
nothing  ;  it  was  microscopic  in  importance,  reduced 

143 


144  PAULA 

to  infinitesimal  proportions  by  the  side  of  its  huge 
neighbour.  It  was  her  wedding-day,  but  it  was 
the  day  of  the  first  representation.  Would  it 
succeed  or  would  it  fail  ?  On  her  rested  all  the 
effort,  all  the  work,  and  the  result — after  all — on 
chance ! 

She  moved  wearily,  opened  her  eyes,  and  glanced 
longingly  at  the  bottle  of  chloroform  standing  on 
the  corner  of  the  dressing-table.  A  little  of  that 
on  a  handkerchief  to  her  nostrils,  and  she  could 
drift  quietly  back  into  oblivion  and  rest — for  ever, 
slip  off  the  burden  and  escape  the  ordeal.  She 
almost  stretched  her  hand  to  the  bottle,  so  great 
was  the  sense  of  nervous  shrinking,  of  reaction, 
almost  of  terror,  now  on  the  threshold  of  her 
accomplished  wishes.  Then  came  the  thought 
born  of  her  genius  and  her  pride.  "  You  must 
succeed."  She  seemed  to  hear  it  in  the  room  like 
a  divine  whisper.  The  lovely  breast  swelled  under 
its  laces ;  she  pushed  the  hair  from  her  eyes  with 
both  hands,  and  murmured  half  aloud,  "  I  will." 

Still  she  did  not  stir.  Such  a  deadly  weakness 
weighed  upon  her.  She  glanced  round  the  room, 
watching  the  light  grow  stronger.  Then  all  at 
once  a  finger  of  sun  darted  through  the  crack  of  the 
blind  and  fell  on  Vincent's  portrait,  glinting  across 
the  glass.  Her  eye  caught  it,  and  for  the  first  time 
a  dim  realisation  of  what  the  day  was,  for  her, 
flashed  upon  her.  "  Oh,  darling,  darling,"  she 
thought,  with  a  rush  of  hot  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she 


PAULA  145 

stretched  out  her  arms  to  the  portrait,  "  I  shouldn't 
feel  like  this  if  it  were  you  !  "  So  she  lay  for  a 
few  seconds  staring  at  the  picture,  with  the  tears 
falling  down  her  pale  cheeks;  but  the  great  central 
idea  that  pressed  upon  her  mind  crushed  down  all 
others.  Her  thoughts,  that  had  clung  to  Vincent 
for  a  moment  or  two,  and  dwelt  with  horror  upon 
Reeves,  reverted  violently  to  the  play,  and  the 
images  of  both  men  faded  like  the  shadows  in  a 
mist.  She  sat  up  at  last,  pushed  down  the  bed- 
clothes, and  put  her  feet  over  the  bedside.  She 
sat  looking  down  at  them  thoughtfully  for  a  few 
minutes.  They  had  a  great  deal  before  them, 
a  great  deal  to  do,  and  a  great  deal  depended 
on  them,  these  small  feet.  A  great  deal;  the  bril- 
liance of  the  play  went  for  much,  her  own  acting 
went  for  much,  but  her  dancing  for  perhaps  more 
than  all.  They  looked  smooth,  firm,  and  rosy,  fit 
for  anything,  and  she  swung  them  joyously  to- 
gether. What  other  feet  in  all  London  could  dance 
like  these?  That  dance,  incomparable,  unique  as 
it  was,  would  make  any  play  go  down.  London 
would  come  to  see  it  alone,  if  nothing  else. 

She  got  up  at  last  and  walked  over  to  the  glass. 
She  drew  back  the  curtains  from  the  window,  and 
stood  looking  out,  her  eyes  fixed  distantly  at  a 
house  across  the  street.  She  was  a  beautiful, 
charming  figure  with  the  linen  falling  a  little  open 
at  the  solid  throat,  only  half  concealing  one  smooth 
breast,  and  her  hair  with  the  morning  light  on  it 

IO 


146  PAULA 

curling  on  her  shoulders.  But  she  looked  and  felt 
ill,  her  hand  shook  nervously  on  the  curtain ; 
there  was  a  frightful  pallor  upon  her  face,  the 
pallor  of  late  hours  and  over-fatigue  and  overstrain, 
and  the  effects  of  these  ached  through  her  system. 
That  dreadful  indefinable  weight  upon  her  heart, 
that  is  the  cost  of  all  great  desire,  the  sense  of 
responsibility,  seemed  suffocating  her. 

She  looked  across  the  street,  and  in  the  opposite 
house  she  saw  a  little  dull-haired  shop-girl  washing 
her  face  and  neck  close  by  the  open  window.  It 
came  to  her  the  thought,  that  girl  on  her  wedding 
morning,  what  would  her  feelings  be  ?  A  simple, 
unfettered,  irresponsible  happiness,  the  unreason- 
ing light-heartedness  of  unspoiled  health,  and  a  joy, 
genuine  if  coarse  and  primitive,  at  the  thought  of  her 
oily-haired  young  shop  assistant — the  man  of  her 
choice.  How  different  from  herself  this  morning, 
sick  and  overstrained,  torn  with  her  keen  desires 
and  sharp  hopes,  and  even  her  own  body  demanded 
as  the  price  of  success,  and  self  so  obliterated 
within  her  that  she  had  no  room  for  repulsion  in 
her  brain!  A  smile  passed  over  her  face  as  she 
caught  its  reflection  in  the  glass  and  let  the  curtain 
slide  from  her  tremulous  hand.  "  Happy  are  they 
that  have  no  gifts." 

She  did  up  her  hair  as  well  as  she  could  with 
her  uncertain  fingers,  and  then  dressed  rather 
slowly  but  calmly.  She  was  too  absorbed  in  the 
thought  of  the  evening  to  be  anything  but  calm, 


PAULA  147 

calm  and  collected  in  doing  the  little  things 
required  of  her.  When  she  had  packed  up  the 
few  things  still  remaining  from  last  night,  and 
fastened  the  last  button  in  the  bodice  of  her  white 
cloth  dress,  she  went  into  the  little  sitting-room, 
her  gloves  and  large  white  hat  in  her  hand.  The 
marriage  was  to  be  before  the  registrar,  by  Paula's 
wish.  "What  is  the  use  of  going  to  church?" 
she  had  asked.  "  It  seems  so  ridiculous  when 
you  know  what  a  Pagan,  and  Hedonist,  and  all 
the  rest  of  it,  you  are  marrying.  Besides,  it  makes 
more  unnecessary  bother.  If  you  will  crowd  the 
ceremony  into  the  same  day  as  the  first  show,  it 
must  be  done  quietly,  or  I  shan't  be  fit  for  any- 
thing in  the  evening,"  and  as  Paula  wished  so  it 
was  arranged.  There  was  to  be  a  quiet  wedding  at 
the  registry,  and  in  place  of  a  wedding  breakfast, 
a  big  supper  at  the  Savoy  after  the  play. 

"  Our  last  breakfast  together,  Charlie,"  she  said, 
when  they  were  both  seated  at  it,  looking  across 
the  little  round  table  which  had  served  them  for 
so  long,  looking  with  a  sweet  smile  in  her  soft  eyes. 

The  young  man  opposite  seemed  to  gulp  some- 
thing down  his  throat  which  was  harder  to  swallow 
than  his  coffee  as  he  met  it.  "  Yes,  dear,  I  shall 
miss  you  dreadfully,"  he  said,  after  a  moment. 
That  was  all,  but  there  were  eloquent  pauses  be- 
tween each  word. 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  snug  in  the  new  rooms,"  she 
said  softly.     "  I   am    glad  you're   going  there.     I 


148  PAULA 

couldn't  bear  to  leave  you  here.  In  St.  James' 
Street  you  will  be  close  to  Vincent," — her  lips 
grew  white  at  his  name, — "  and  see  him  a  good 
deal,  I  expect  .  .  .  oftener  than  ...  I  shall."  She 
stopped,  unable  to  say  more ;  and  Charlie  was 
silent  too,  and  looked  away. 

He  would  not  say  a  word  to  cloud  her  feelings 
further :  he  thought  of  the  Greek  commonplace, 
"Speak  no  ill-omened  words;"  but  in  his  heart 
he  thought,  "  I  wish  to  Heaven  she  were  marrying 
the  right  man  ;  I'm  sure  this  will  be  a  bad  busi- 
ness." They  finished  their  breakfast,  or  rather  the 
pretence  they  made  of  it,  in  silence.  Then  as 
Paula  got  up  and  passed  his  chair,  she  laid  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  It's  well  worth  it, 
Charlie  dear,"  she  said,  reading  his  thoughts  and 
answering  them.  "Think  of  me  on  the  boards 
to-night." 

A  little  past  noon,  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  fresh 
May  sunlight,  in  the  little  brougham  that  threaded 
its  way  briskly  through  the  thick  of  the  traffic  in 
Piccadilly,  Reeves  turned  to  Paula  and  drew  his 
pale,  nervous-eyed  bride  into  his  arms.  Paula 
made  no  resistance.  She  even  lifted  her  face  to 
his  with  a  smile,  but  her  lips  remained  unre- 
sponsive to  the  touch  of  his  :  she  hardly  noticed 
the  passion  in  his  arms  as  they  interlaced  her  and 
pressed  her  to  him.  She  was  abstracted,  absorbed 
in  all  that  lay  before  her.  The  step  she  had  just 
taken  had  not  roused  nor  moved  her ;  it  seemed 


PAULA  149 

such  a  little  thing  beside  the  issues  hanging  over 
her !  But  she  had  an  intensely  kind  and  sym- 
pathetic nature.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to 
stir  passion  in  her  then,  or  any  personal  emotion, 
but  even  her  mental  absorption  could  not  do  away 
with  her  unselfish  instincts.  She  saw  vaguely  that 
Reeves  sank  back  in  his  place  with  a  look  of 
disappointment,  and  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  im- 
pulsively. "Dear  Dick,"  she  said,  "you  mustn't 
mind  my  being  distraite  just  now.  I  am  quite 
dead,  as  it  were,  to  every  emotion  but  anticipation 
of  this  evening.  Afterwards,  when  I  know  it's  a 
success — after  twelve,  after  we've  left  the  theatre 
— I'll  wake  up,  for  you."  The  accent  and  the 
softness  with  which  she  spoke  the  last  two  words 
were  ineffable  as  she  laid  her  head  against  his 
shoulder,  and  the  sweetness  of  them  thrilled 
through  and  through  the  man  who  heard  them. 
Paula  was  unconscious  of  their  effect,  almost  of 
the  words  themselves.  She  used  them  and  the 
accompanying  tones  almost  mechanically.  She 
had  meant  to  say  something  to  comfort  Reeves, 
and  she  had  said  it,  and  her  thoughts  slipped  back 
to  the  stage  again. 

When  they  reached  Reeves's  house,  she  found 
quite  a  large  reception  to  meet  and  welcome  her. 
The  stone  staircase  had  its  balustrade  decorated 
with  lilies  up  to  the  first  floor,  and  was  lined  on  each 
side  with  tiers  of  white  and  crimson  flowers. 
Several    friends  of  his  met  her  at  the  door  and 


150  PAULA 

pressed  round  her  with  congratulations.  Austin 
Davies  came  up  amongst  the  first,  and  it  was  noticed 
Paula  thanked  him  more  warmly  than  any  one 
else.  She  did  so  unconsciously,  merely  because  he 
was  more  intimately  connected  with  her  play  than 
any  of  the  rest.  When  she  reached  the  rooms 
upstairs,  she  saw  without  heeding  that  Reeves  had 
had  them  decorated  like  the  staircase.  Masses  of 
white  flowers  met  the  eye  from  every  side,  and 
near  the  window  rose  a  bank  completely  formed  of 
white  hyacinths,  with  her  name,  Paula,  in  scarlet 
geraniums  written  across  it. 

The  rooms  were  filled,  though  not  crowded,  by 
the  people  she  had  got  to  know  within  the  last  two 
months,  and  every  one  agreed  that  she  had  seldom 
looked  better  than  when  she  appeared  and  hesitated 
an  instant  with  delightful  want  of  confidence  on 
the  threshold.  The  clear  pallor  of  the  face  above 
its  white  dress,  with  the  faint  flush  of  excitement 
in  the  cheeks,  and  the  widely  dilated  eyes,  filled 
with  light  and  looking  out  from  beneath  its  dark 
eyebrows,  made  you  forget  the  irregularity  of  its 
features.  The  abnormal  cleverness  and  power  in 
the  face  struck  you  and  held  you,  just  as  its 
delicacy,  almost  ill-health,  fascinated  you.  Con- 
gratulations poured  over  her,  and  Paula  with  her 
sweet  smile  moved  amongst  the  group  of  figures 
exchanging  her  thanks  with  little  tender  remarks 
and  compliments  to  the  women,  such  as  had  made 
her  so  popular  at  the  theatre. 


PAULA  151 

At  last,  when  much  champagne  had  been  con- 
sumed, and  Paula's  health  drunk  several  times,  and 
that  of  the  play,  the  dance,  the  theatre,  the  drama 
in  general,  and  every  other  toast  that  could  possibly 
be  thought  of,  a  move  for  departure  was  made 
among  the  guests,  and  they  retreated  gradually, 
each  without  exception  assuring  her  that  they 
were  coming  to  witness  her  triumph  in  the  evening. 
When  the  last  had  gone,  Paula's  strength  seemed 
to  collapse.  "  Oh,  Dick,"  she  said,  laying  her 
hand  on  Reeves's,  "  I  feel  so  ill."  He  looked  at  her 
and  saw  an  abject,  terror  in  her  eyes.  Usually  she 
did  not  care  a  hang,  as  she  would  have  expressed 
it,  whether  she  felt  ill  or  well,  but  to-night !  If  she 
were  ill  to-night,  at  the  theatre !  Reeves  half 
supported  her  to  the  sofa. 

"  Lie  down,  darling,  and  rest,"  he  said  very 
gently,  as  she  sank  down  on  it.  He  brought  her 
a  glass  of  champagne  from  the  inner  room,  but  she 
motioned  it  away  with  a  friendly  smile.  It  made 
her  feel  sick.  He  stood  beside  her  with  his  watch 
in  his  hand,  looking  from  her  to  it  with  a  worried 
expression.  "  I  ought  to  be  down  at  the  theatre, 
there's  so  much  to  see  to  ;  but  I  don't  like  to  leave 
you." 

A  gleam  of  fresh  animation  leant  into  Paula's 
eyes,  she  opened  them  wide  and  looked  up  eagerly. 
"  Oh,  yes  ;  go  if  it's  necessary,"  she  said.  "  Am  I 
wanted  ?     Shall  I  come  too  ?  " 

"  No ;  you'd   much  better  keep  quiet,"  he  said, 


152  PAULA 

looking  at  her  anxiously,  "  and  reserve  your 
strength." 

She  caught  his  hand  between  her  two,  that  burnt 
with  fever.  "  You'll  do  everything — exert  yourself 
to  the  utmost  to  make  it  a  success,  won't  you  ?  " 
she  said,  fixing  her  strangely  dilated  eyes  on  his 
face.  "  It's  the  road  to  my  love,  Dick  ;  I'll  do 
anything  for  you  if  it  succeeds — I'll  adore  you." 
She  spoke  without  weighing  or  calculating  her 
words,  without  even  thinking  of  them.  Words, 
with  all  their  necessary  tones  and  accents  and 
subtle  intonations  of  voice,  were  such  ready 
familiar  servants  to  her,  and  did  their  work 
generally  so  well.  Reeves  felt  stirred  to  the 
innermost  depths  of  his  being  as  he  heard  them, 
and  he  bent  over  her  with  a  hot  flush  in  his  face, 
and  kissed  her  enthusiastically  on  her  lips. 

"Darling!"  was  all  he  said;  but  Paula  knew  the 
very  utmost  would  be  done,  and,  as  the  door  shut 
quietly  behind  him,  her  head  sank  back  on  the 
cushion  content.  She  lay  there  with  eyes  closed 
and  arms  outstretched,  one  hand  trailed  upon  the 
floor  beside  the  low  couch.  She  was  not  thinking 
of  her  husband,  she  did  not  feel  the  warmth  that 
his  excited  kisses  still  left  upon  her  face,  nor  was 
she  thinking  of  Vincent — only  of  the  evening's 
work. 

By  seven  o'clock  the  theatre  was  filling  rapidly, 
by  half-past  it  was  nearly  full.  The  lights  were 
still  turned  down  and  twinkled  like  blinking  eyes 


PAULA  153 

all  over  the  house.  The  centre  of  it  was  filled  with 
a  faint  dusty  mistiness  that  always  seems  clinging 
about  a  theatre  when  the  drop-scene  is  not  up. 
The  curtains  in  most  of  the  boxes  had  been  drawn 
aside,  and  faces  looked  down  from  between  them 
on  the  gathering  crowd  below :  people  were  stand- 
ing up  in  the  stalls  with  their  backs  to  the  stage 
scanning  the  upper  galleries.  There  were  plenty  of 
celebrities  present  and  known  beauties,  but  there 
was  little  remark  or  discussion  about  anything 
except  the  play,  and  this  new  dramatist,  actress, 
and  dancer  that  was  about  to  be  sprung  suddenly 
upon  the  world.  The  critics  were  there  in  force, 
and  the  faces  of  the  reporters  wore  a  more 
haggard  and  eager  look  than  usual.  The  orchestra 
filed  in  and  began  to  tune  softly,  its  scrapings 
and  twitterings  seemed  an  accompaniment  to 
the  excited  talk  in  whispering  and  undertones 
that  was  going  on  in  all  parts  of  the  house; 
numberless  bouquets  of  all  sorts  and  dimensions  lay 
along  the  velvet  ledges  of  the  boxes  and  dress 
circle,  ready  to  be  thrown.  A  sense  of  suppressed 
eager  anticipation  hung  over  the  whole  house. 

A  little  earlier  than  this,  Paula  was  driving  down 
in  Reeves's  carriage  to  the  theatre  where  the  public 
were  waiting  for  her  so  eagerly,  ready  to  welcome 
her  and  acclaim  her  if  she  succeeded  to  the  full, 
eager  to  fall  upon  her  and  rend  her  in  pieces — 
metaphorically — if  she  failed  or  slipped  in  the 
minutest   detail   from    physical    weakness    or   any 


154  PAULA 

other  cause,  and  to  fall  upon  her  with  all  the  more 
merciless  condemnation  for  having  dared  so  much. 
They  drove  in  silence,  sitting  side  by  side,  one  of 
her  hands,  a  small  cold  hand,  damp  with  excite- 
ment, closed  tight  in  his,  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  her  eyes  closed  with  the  tears  of 
nervous  weakness  falling  down  her  pale  cheeks. 
"Our  friend  Halham  has  come  back,"  remarked 
Reeves  after  a  minute  or  two  of  silence;  "  I  found 
him  at  the  box  office  this  afternoon.  I  have  taken 
him  into  my  box,  of  course." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Paula.  She  hardly  heard  or 
understood,  and  Reeves  lapsed  into  silence  again. 

At  the  last  minute  before  the  curtain  went  up, 
Vincent  came  round  to  the  green-room  to  see  her. 
It  was  full  of  figures,  and  he  found  himself  pressed 
back  in  an  angle  between  the  door  and  the  wall. 
Paula  was  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  a 
tall  white  figure,  pressed  round  by  a  crowd  of 
sympathisers,  each  with  some  suggestion,  some 
last  remark  to  make.  Vincent  watched  her  keenly 
in  silence  from  his  place  against  the  wall.  She 
was  quivering  all  over,  her  nostrils  beat  nervously. 
Each  time  she  turned  or  moved,  he  saw  the  sort  of 
tremor  agitating  her.  Reeves  laid  his  hand  on 
her  shoulder,  and  said  kindly,  "  How  nervous  you 
are,  dear ! "  but  he  was  wrong.  She  had  passed 
the  nervous  stage ;  and  so  Vincent  felt,  watching 
her.  Her  trembling  now  was  the  mere  effect  of 
intense  mental  concentration  on  the  coming  effort, 


PAULA  155 

and  keen  physical  excitement.  To  Vincent  she 
seemed  quivering,  vibrating  with  her  reined-in 
powers,  as  he  had  seen  racers  quiver  when  reined-in 
at  the  start. 

At  last  Reeves  said,  "  Now,  dear!"  and  Paula, 
with  her  hand  on  his  arm,  walked  to  the  door,  fol- 
lowed by  the  others  ;  they  pressed  past  Vincent. 
Her  eyes  did  not  glance  in  his  direction,  and  they 
went  down  towards  the  stage. 

Vincent  left  the  green-room  and  hurried  back 
to  regain  the  box  ;  when  he  was  half-way  there, 
the  dull,  thundering  noise  of  applause,  like  a  heavy 
sea  breaking  on  the  beach,  came  to  his  ears,  and 
he  knew  she  was  on  the  boards.  From  the  first 
few  moments  of  her  appearance,  every  one,  from 
wall  to  wall  of  the  theatre,  felt  that  she  had  the 
makings  of  a  great  actress  in  her.  Physical  gifts 
go  for  so  much  in  this  art,  of  which,  perhaps, 
the  least  powerful  is  mere  beauty.  An  exquisite 
suppleness  of  voice,  an  unusual  plasticity  of  form, 
a  power  of  perfect  expression  by  the  face  alone, 
these  are  the  gifts  that  are  necessary  and  sufficient. 
And  with  all  these  Paula  was  endowed  ;  but  there 
was  yet  more  given  into  her  hand.  Underlying 
the  powers  of  expression  there  was  the  intensity  of 
emotion  to  express. 

As  she  came  down  the  boards  towards  the  foot- 
lights, looking  absurdly  young,  and  gazed  across 
at  the  waiting  house,  there  was  a  curious  fire  in 
the  widely  dilated  eyes ;  the  divine  afflatus  seemed 


156  PAULA 

to  be  upon  the  proudly  smiling  lips.  Great  and  pro- 
longed was  the  applause,  and  Paula  smiled  a  sweet, 
tender,  confident  smile,  that  seemed  to  embrace 
the  whole  audience.  She  felt  she  loved  it.  There 
was  hardly  a  trace  of  nervousness.  In  the  first  few 
words  she  had  to  speak  she  lost  memory  of  the 
listening,  watching  house. 

There  was  much  scribbling  in  the  critics'  note- 
books. Reviews  already  written  out  received 
points  and  touches.  Already  prepared  eulogies 
on  her  voice  were  tuned  up  a  screw  of  the  peg 
higher.  It  had  never  at  any  of  the  rehearsals 
been  so  purely  soft  and  beautiful,  so  full  of  tears, 
so  running  over  with  laughter  as  to-night. 

As  the  first  act  drew  to  its  close,  every  one  felt  a 
leaping  impulse  to  begin  to  applaud  not  only  the 
acting,  but  the  piece.  "  It  is  good,"  was  the  one 
verdict  in  every  brain,  accented  with  envy,  surprise, 
reluctance,  or  satisfaction,  according  to  the  critic's 
view  and  preconceived  ideas. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  act,  as  she  stood  bowing 
by  Reeves's  side  in  response  to  the  furore  of 
applause,  she  happened  to  glance  for  the  first  time 
towards  the  box  where  now  Vincent  sat  alone,  and 
straight  across  the  glare  of  the  footlights,  above 
the  rows  of  applauding  stalls,  she  met  the  tranquil 
blue  eyes  with  their  steady  gaze  fixed  upon  her, 
that  she  had  last  seen  in  her  little  dim  room  at 
Lisle  Street  when  she  had  boasted  of  her  powers. 
For  a  minute  the   whole   house    seemed    rocking 


PAULA  157 

before  her  gaze,  ceiling  and  gilded  gallery  and  the 
huge  globe  of  light  above  seemed  to  swirl  round 
together,  and  through  a  mist,  a  chaos  of  faces  and 
light,  shone  steadily  upon  her  those  calm  fixed 
eyes.  The  next  instant  her  vision  and  brain  were 
clear  again.  A  fiercer  flame  of  animation  than 
before  leapt  through  her.  People  said  afterwards 
there  was  more  passion  in  her  acting  after  the  first 
act,  that  she  surpassed  herself  in  the  second  and 
third,  and  they  attributed  it  to  her  having  gained 
more  confidence,  to  the  greater  scope  given  by  the 
acts  themselves,  and  various  other  wrong  causes. 
Reading  these  reports  afterwards,  the  only  two 
people  who  knew  the  right  cause  smiled  painfully. 
For  the  last  scene  in  the  third  act  every  one 
settled  down  in  their  seats,  more  firmly,  as  it  were; 
a  rustle  went  through  the  whole  house,  as  the 
women  arranged  their  dresses  and  their  programmes 
just  as  they  wanted  them  to  be  through  the  whole 
scene,  not  wishing  to  have  to  disturb  them  again. 
Everybody  whispered  to  his  neighbour  that  now  the 
famous  dance  was  coming,  though  everybody  knew 
it ;  then  gradually  a  silence  grew  and  spread,  and 
in  an  excited  hush  of  expectation  the  curtain 
went  up.  The  last  scene  was  laid  in  the  Persian 
Court,  and  a  beautiful  scene  of  brilliance,  life, 
animation,  colour,  and  movement  it  was.  A  thou- 
sand lights  hung  from  the  fretted  roof  and 
sparkled  through  ruby  and  violet  glass,  and  glinted 
through  bronze  open-work,  throwing  a  shimmering, 


158  PAULA 

swimming  glow  over  the  marble   floors    and    the 
vivid  Mohammedan  costumes. 

Paula  had  no  trade  jealousy.  Her  engrained 
arrogance  and  belief  in  herself  saved  her  from  a 
hundred  other  petty  failings.  She  had  thought 
first  of  the  play,  last  of  herself,  and  had  worked 
sedulously  through  Reeves  and  his  manager  to 
collect  together,  not  a  cast  of  inferior  talent,  to 
form  a  foil  to  her  own  powers,  but  one  that  should 
be  a  brilliant  setting  to  them.  She  would  have 
laughed  at  the  idea  of  being  eclipsed. 

"You  take  care  of  the  play;  I'll  take  care  of 
myself,"  she  had  said  mockingly  to  Austin  Davies, 
when  he  had  suggested  a  lovely  face  in  Fidelia's 
rival,  or  a  peculiarly  well-acted  minor  part,  would 
detract  from  the  effect  that  Paula's  Fidelia  created. 
And  she  was  justified.  Now,  when  she  was 
surrounded  by  the  art  and  the  talent  she  had 
welcomed,  there  was  still  no  voice  quite  like 
hers,  no  figure  that  drew  the  watching  eyes  from 
hers.  A  miraculous  surplus  of  life  seemed  lent 
her,  and  the  passionate  fervour  with  which  she 
spoke  and  moved  and  loved,  as  the  Persian  girl, 
carried  away  even  the  stoniest,  most  blast  of 
"first-nighters."  It  was  so  perfectly  easy  and 
natural  to  her ;  an  effect  obtained  without  the 
slightest  straining.  The  whole  part  was  but  a 
revelation,  and  that  not  a  full  one,  of  her  ardent, 
joyous,  living  self.  All  her  powers  were  exer- 
cised   as    easily,    as    spontaneously    as    the    song 


PAULA  159 

comes  trilling,  bubbling,  and  gushing  from  the 
thrush's  throat. 

The  dance  was  to  be  the  finale,  and  as  the  heavy- 
blue  carpet  was  unrolled  in  the  centre  of  the  crowded 
stage,  before  Fidelia's  feet,  the  stillness  amongst  the 
audience  was  a  stillness  that  might  be  felt.  Then 
as  the  orchestra  started  a  faint  slow  music  with  a 
peculiar  rhythm,  she  commenced  her  dance.  Every 
one  in  the  crowd  on  the  stage  had  his  allotted  part 
to  play  as  onlooker,  but  had  he  forgotten  it,  no 
one  would  have  noticed  it,  so  completely  was 
attention  riveted  to '  the  dancer,  so  irresistibly 
was  every  eye  kept  held,  powerless  to  transfer 
its  gaze,  on  the  exquisite  figure  bending  and 
curving  itself  to  form  ten  thousand  perfect 
lines,  the  formation  and  breaking  up  of  which 
followed  exactly  the  faint  risings  and  fallings  of  the 
weird  music.  So  wonderfully  did  the  symmetries 
of  her  movement  seem  to  fall  in  with  the  symphony 
of  the  music  that  the  senses  seemed  doubled  and 
confused;  one  seemed  suddenly  to  lose  distinction 
as  to  which  was  sound  and  which  motion. 

There  had  been  whispers  of  Mrs.  Grundy  and 
remarks  anent  the  British  public  with  reference  to 
this  dance,  which  Paula  had  as  usual  smiled  away 
in  unlimited  scorn,  but  which  had  been  the  subject 
of  anxious  private  discussions  between  Reeves  and 
his  stage  manager  in  her  absence ;  but  Reeves, 
spurred  on  by  his  love  and  fortified  by  his  artistic 
sense,  had  determined  to  risk  it,  and  for  once  Mrs. 


160  PAULA 

Grundy  was  silenced,  and  the  great  British  public 
sat  enthralled  without  cavilling,  without  straining 
after  their  blushes,  simply  pinned  to  their  seats 
with  their  eyes  pinned  open,  as  the  loveliness  of 
true  art,  untrammelled  by  fear,  unfettered  by 
restrictions,  was  revealed  to  them.  Hardly  a 
breath  was  drawn,  the  quiet  throughout  the 
house  was  intense.  In  a  cathedral  the  silence 
could  not  have  been  deeper,  more  reverent,  the 
motionless  figures  that  watched  that  one  figure 
that  moved  might  have  been  assisting  at  some 
great  religious  rite — and  after  all,  were  they  not? 
What  is  religion  but  a  sense  of  the  divine,  and 
these  were  divine  gifts  that  were  being  poured 
out  before  them  in  a  glad,  generous  spontaneity. 
When  the  dance  and  the  scene  terminated  and  the 
curtain  fell,  there  was  still  a  second  of  silence. 
Then  the  lights  were  turned  up,  and  the  storm  of 
acclamation  broke. 

Seldom  has  an  audience  been  so  enthusiastic, 
because  seldom  has  it  been  so  genuinely  excited. 
A  sort  of  nervous  physical  excitement  moved  the 
onlookers,  communicated  by  the  sight  of  the 
physical  effort  and  tension,  and  physical  triumph, 
they  had  watched.  Some  of  the  women  were 
hysterical,  the  men  in  the  stalls  clapped  violently, 
the  men  in  the  gallery  stood  up  and  shouted. 
Reeves,  who  had  been  watching  the  effect  from  the 
front,  in  his  box,  rushed  round  to  receive  her 
behind  the  scene.     Charlie  followed,  pale,  and  with 


PAULA  161 

the  tears  standing  in  his  eyes.  Vincent  sat  on, 
alone,  without  stirring,  his  chin  resting  on  his  hand, 
his  face  set  and  drawn,  grimly  surveying  the 
crowded,  excited  house.  Paula,  flying  off  the  stage 
as  soon  as  the  curtain  touched  it,  ran  straight  into 
Reeves's  arms  outstretched  towards  her  as  she  came 
up  the  wings.  He  clasped  her  to  him,  but  she 
struggled  herself  free  from  him  impatiently.  Her 
hands,  and  neck,  and  face  were  damp  with  sweat, 
the  dust  of  the  boards  lay  on  her  hair  and  the 
scarlet  folds  of  her  dress,  her  eyes  blazed  feverishly. 

"Well,  how  did  I  do  it?"  she  asked,  eagerly 
looking  round  the  animated  circle  that  closed 
about  her.  "  Was  it  at  my  best  ?  "  There  was  a 
chorus  of  enthusiastic  voices.  Paula  looked  im- 
ploringly at  Austin  Davies.  He  was  the  man 
whose  opinion  she  wanted  most. 

"  Was  it — was  it  ?  "  she  asked  breathlessly. 

"  Superb — a  triumph,"  he  answered  back  with 
the  water  standing  in  his  keen  grey  eyes,  and  a 
glow  of  admiration  on  his  usually  wooden  face. 
Meanwhile  the  audience  were  becoming  furious. 
Paula's  rush  from  the  stage  and  those  few  hurried 
exclamations  had  only  taken  some  seconds,  but 
as  the  curtain  remained  motionless  under  their 
warm  continued  applause,  they  felt  themselves 
injured,  and  the  gallery  stood  up  and  stamped  and 
shouted  "Fidelia,"  and  "Author,"  till  the  theatre 
echoed.  This  had  the  effect  of  bringing  Reeves 
forward  slowly  before  the  curtain  leading  the  sweet 

1 1 


1 62  PAULA 

figure  their  eyes  hungered  after.  There  was  not 
the  faintest  trace  of  nervousness,  nor  fatigue,  nor 
pallor  now.  Her  whole  body  seemed  elastic  as 
she  walked,  her  eyes  swept  the  entire  house,  and 
all  saw  the  flash  in  them.  Her  face  was  flushed 
and  brilliant  with  dazzling  smiles.  Her  whole 
genius  was  alight,  on  fire  within  her,  her  self- 
confidence  supreme,  her  pride  and  elation  bound- 
less. She  bowed,  and  some  of  the  bouquets  were 
thrown  to  her  feet,  others  handed  up  over  the  foot- 
lights. She  bowed  again,  and  such  was  the  grace 
and  symmetry  and  poetry  in  that  one  single  figure 
before  them,  the  fascinating  seduction  of  those 
bows,  that  they  would  have  kept  her  there  for  ever. 
As  she  retreated  backwards,  gliding,  and  soft,  and 
supple,  with  her  eyes  smiling  over  the  bouquet 
at  the  great  audience  applauding  her,  the  gods 
screamed  louder,  and  kicked  the  woodwork  before 
them  in  a  madness  of  appreciation. 

Paula,  as  she  had  gone  back,  had  lifted  her  eyes 
to  Reeves's  box,  empty  now  but  for  that  one 
solitary  figure  sitting  motionless  as  if  hewn  in 
stone.  She  saw  the  grey-hued  face  with  its  set 
eyes  fixed  upon  her.  The  hopeless  melancholy 
upon  it,  and  the  cold  but  intensely  savage  jealousy 
in  the  eyes  pierced  to  her  heart,  and  sent  a  greater 
intoxication  to  her  brain  than  all  the  thunder  of 
the  house.  She  felt  wild,  maddened,  out  of  herself, 
beyond  control  almost  with  elation,  with  triumph, 
with  a  mental  drunkenness  of  sheer  delight. 


PAULA  163 

Upstairs  in  her  dressing-room,  she  tore  off  the 
Mohammedan  dress  with  wild,  impatient  fingers. 
What  would  he  say  to  her?  how  would  he  greet 
her?  What  had  he  been  thinking  of  her  ?  He  had 
come  back  !  He  had  responded  to  her  challenge ! 
He  had  come  to  see  her  triumph!  Well,  he  had 
seen  it.  The  thoughts  raced  and  bounded  through 
her  excited  brain  in  random  disorder  as  she  shook 
out  the  dust  from  her  hair  and  slipped  a  white 
petticoat  over  her  head.  Her  supper  dress  of 
white  satin  was  lying  ready  over  a  chair.  The 
dresser  stood  by  holding  the  bodice,  wonderful  in 
its  tourbillons  of  tulle  and  lace.  To  her  remarks 
and  her  flatteries  Paula  paid  no  attention,  and  the 
woman's  voice  went  on  like  a  badly-played  accom- 
paniment to  the  dancing  music  of  her  thoughts. 
The  door  opened  and  Reeves  entered.  His  wife 
was  before  the  glass,  just  leaning  forward  to  it. 
In  one  hand  she  had  a  wet  sponge,  and  the  other 
leant  on  the  toilet  table.  She  saw  Reeves  enter, 
and  laughed  at  him  as  she  dabbed  the  sponge  to 
her  over-blackened  eyelashes.  The  glass  gave  back 
an  enchanting  picture  of  soft  neck  and  shoulder 
and  arm  as  she  balanced  forward  towards  it. 
Reeves  came  up  and  planted  himself  just  behind 
her,  and  watched  her  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Well,  how  much  longer  are  you  going  to  be  ?  " 
he  said,  smiling.  "  They  are  all  waiting  for  you, 
and  quite  rabid  downstairs ! "  Paula  laughed 
gaily.  ' 


1 64  TAULA 

"  Let  them  wait !  I  must  get  this  blacking  off. 
My  eyes  look  like  a  pair  of  boots." 

"  I  wanted  Ilalham  to  stay  and  come  on  with  us 
to  supper,  but  he  wouldn't.  Said  he'd  been  ill 
abroad,  and  wasn't  properly  put  together  yet,  and 
went  off  in  spite  of  all  I  could  say.  I  felt  we 
should  have  been  more  complete  with  him.  He 
introduced  you  to  me,  Polly,  do  you  remember?" 
Watching  his  wife's  sweet  brilliant  face  in  the 
glass,  Reeves  saw  a  sudden  pallor  and  blank  come 
over  it.  He  thought  she  was  going  to  faint.  The 
narrow  dressing-room  was  hot,  the  air  laden  with 
dust  and  the  scent  of  cosmetics,  and  a  huge 
unprotected  flare  of  gas  blazed  in  its  jet  just 
above  her  head.  "  Pull  open  that  skylight,"  he 
said  sharply  to  the  dresser  as  he  started  forward 
to  support  his  wife,  but  Paula  waved  him  away. 

"  Oh,  I  am  all  right,"  she  said,  with  a  hard 
laugh.  She  was  so  bitterly  disappointed.  And 
was  this  only  disappointment,  she  half  wondered 
to  herself.  This  craze  of  longing  to  speak  with 
Halham  now  she  had  seen  him,  this  sickening 
blank  and  loss  because  she  heard  he  was  not 
coming — what  did  it  mean?  Her  triumphal  joy, 
where  had  it  all  vanished  ?  Her  impatience  to  get 
dressed,  to  see  herself  look  lovely,  her  wild  hurry 
to  be  downstairs,  it  was  all  gone.  She  could  have 
sunk  upon  the  ground  and  cried. 

"  You  are  overdone,  dear  child,"  said  Reeves, 
anxiously.     "Come,  make  haste  and  get  dressed. 


PAULA  165 

Here,  Mrs.  Stokes,  that  skirt,  please."  Paula, 
angry  and  maddened,  with  feelings  she  had  no 
time  and  no  wish  to  put  a  name  to,  rubbed  her 
eyes  free  of  the  paint  and  then  turned  to  the 
dresser. 

"  Yes,  put  it  on,"  she  said  impatiently.  What 
did  anything  matter?  She  did  not  care  now  how 
she  looked  or  how  she  dressed.  She  almost  tore 
the  delicate  lace  of  the  bodice  as  she  dragged  it  on 
carelessly  with  her  burning  hands. 

Meanwhile  Vincent  had  left  the  box,  passed 
downstairs,  and  got  away  from  the  theatre.  His 
head  was  throbbing  hard,  his  thoughts  confused. 
He  only  knew  one  thing  clearly — he  must  get 
away.  Get  out  of  the  intolerable  presence  of  this 
man  Reeves,  out  of  hearing  of  his  satisfied  self- 
congratulation,  his  repeated  expressions  of  grati- 
tude to  his  friend  for  having,  as  he  expressed  it, 
"put  a  diamond  into  his  hand."  Away  from  that 
seducing,  melting  loveliness  of  form,  from  those 
sweet  speaking  limbs  and  muscles,  that,  as  her  eyes 
met  his  languidly  in  the  slow  movement  of  the 
dance,  seemed  to  say,  "  I  am  yours,  now  and  ever." 
How  was  it  ?  How  had  it  grown  up,  this  mon- 
strous situation  ?  He  could  not  think.  He  only 
felt  an  intolerable  longing  to  seize  Reeves  as  he 
sat  there,  huge,  pleased,  and  smiling,  and  hurl  him 
over  the  box  edge.  "  My  wife,"  and  "  my  Paula," 
and  "  my  creation."  Good  God !  and  still  the 
swimming   eyes   seemed   calling  to  him  from  the 


1 66  PAULA 

stage.  Then  in  the  tumults  of  applause,  as  he 
looked  over  the  swaying  sea  of  moving  heads  and 
faces,  all  this  mass  of  cultured  and  uncultured 
humanity  swayed  and  ruled  by  that  one  slender 
girlish  form,  he  remembered  her  words  to  him  in 
Lisle  Street,  the  whole  scene  came  back  to  him. 
Every  word  was  recalled.  And  she  had  sold 
herself  into  servitude,  in  obedience  to  the  divine 
powers  moving  her. 

He  left  the  theatre  with  his  head  reeling ;  then,  as 
he  walked,  the  sudden  impulse  came  to  see  her 
again,  to  know  how  she  was  looking,  feeling.  He 
paused,  then  walked  back  and  round  towards 
the  stage  entrance  of  the  theatre.  To  join  them, 
to  be  in  the  company  of  Reeves  and  herself,  to 
play  the  quiet  interested  friend  in  this  mad  turmoil 
of  jealous  rage,, was  impossible.  He  looked  about 
him.  There,  close  by  the  stage  door,  was  another 
doorway.  The  recess  was  not  deep,  but  it  lay 
completely  in  shadow.  Vincent  stepped  into  it 
and  waited.  The  night  was  moonlit,  but  the  moon- 
beams shot  by  him.  The  time  passed,  and  to 
Vincent  it  seemed  neither  short  nor  long.  He  was 
in  a  hell  of  feeling,  in  which  there  is  no  time  nor 
measure  of  it.  It  was  in  reality  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes,  perhaps,  that  he  waited  there.  Suddenly 
there  was  the  sound  of  laughter,  and  a  crowd  of 
figures,  men  and  women,  poured  out  over  the 
narrow  pathway  into  the  road.  The  men,  mostly 
laughing   and    talking    and    smoking,    hailed    up 


PAULA  167 

hansoms;  there  were  a  number  of  women,  making 
brilliant  patches  of  colour  in  the  grey  and  black 
and  silver  of  the  moonlit  street.  Vincent  saw 
nothing,  there  seemed  a  rushing  darkness  all  round 
his  straining  vision.  Then  she  came  out  leaning 
on  Reeves's  arm,  a  pale  blue  opera-cloak  was  half 
tossed  back  from  the  exquisite  bosom  rising  from 
the  billows  of  tulle,  looking  soft  as  foam  in  the 
moonlight.  They  paused  for  a  moment  while  the 
brougham  came  to  the  kerb,  paused  not  two  yards 
from  where  Vincent  stood  sheltered  by  the  jutting 
stone  of  the  doorway.  He  saw  her  distinctly, 
standing  with  the  light  shining  brightly  on  her 
gleaming  satin  dress  and  fair  head  and  white 
throat.  Tight  round  the  base  was  a  necklet  of 
rubies.  Vincent's  eyes  swam,  and  it  seemed  to 
him  a  horrible  line  of  blood.  She  was  laughing, 
jesting;  the  moonlight  flashed  across  her  white 
teeth,  he  heard  the  soft  musical  voice  and  lost  its 
words.  There  was  a  thundering  in  his  ears,  the 
sweat  ran  cold  in  his  palms.  Then  she  had  dis- 
appeared ;  a  click  of  the  carriage  door  and  the 
coachman  drove  off,  giving  place  to  the  crowding 
hansoms. 

Vincent,  careless  of  observation,  left  the  shadow 
and  turned  in  the  opposite  direction,  walking 
madly,  unconscious  of  where  he  was  going.  At 
one  o'clock  a  crawling  cabby  came  along  the  kerb 
beside  him,  with  an  insinuating  "  Keb,  sir? " 

Vincent  paused,  and  signed  to  the  man  to  stop. 


1 68  PAULA 

"  Drive,"  he  said  merely.  His  face  was  a  deadly 
white,  and  great  lines  of  sweat  ran  along  his  fore- 
head. 

Cabby  looked  down  at  him  and  had  his  ideas, 
but  the  distinguished  face  and  figure  impressed 
him,  and  he  answered  politely,  "Yes,  my  lord; 
where  to  ?  " 

Vincent  hesitated.  There  are  moments  when  the 
tension  in  our  brain  is  so  excessive  that  it  cannot 
yield  the  least,  even  the  very  least,  attention  in  any 
other  direction  than  that  in  which  it  is  being 
wholly  drawn.  At  such  times  the  simplest,  most 
trivial  question  looms  before  us  meaningless,  as 
impossible  to  grasp  as  a  mathematical  problem  to 
the  unlearned.  Vincent  gazed  at  the  man  now 
with  contracted  brows.  Then  he  said  with  an 
effort,  "  To  the  Docks,"  and  prepared  to  get  in. 

The  cabby  spoke  to  him  through  the  trap.  "  It's 
a  bit  too  far,  my  lord,"  he  said. 

Vincent  sat  back  silent  in  the  cab,  then  he 
answered  mechanically,  "  Well,  go  as  far  as  you 
can,  and  then  set  me  down." 

"  Very  good,  my  lord,"  returned  cabby,  interested 
in  this  fare  of  the  exceedingly  pleasing  face, 
stamped  with  such  a  pallid  look  of  intolerable 
suffering.  Vincent  cared  nothing  where  he  was 
driven.  Movement  somehow,  somewhere,  was  all 
that  was  necessary,  and  he  had  already  walked 
himself  faint  in  the  hot  May  night.  He  lay  back 
against   the   cushions,   sick    and    exhausted,    with 


PAULA  169 

closed  eyes.  Still  on  the  blank  darkness  painted 
themselves  two  figures — Reeves,  unctuous,  self- 
satisfied,  triumphant,  and  that  other  sinuous,  vivid 
form  dominating  the  multitude.  That  she  loved 
him,  that  she  belonged  to  him,  that  she  was  his,  in 
will,  in  all  those  unerring  impulses  that  Nature  has 
implanted  to  make  clear  her  laws,  he  was  convinced, 
and  this  hideous  anomaly  of  surrender  to  another 
seemed  a  thought  not  to  be  borne.  On  the  night 
that  she  was  wedded  to  her  art  she  was  also 
wedded  to  a  life-long  prostitution.  As  she  com- 
menced the  pure,  narrow,  upward  path  of  the  one, 
spiritually  she  began  the  broad  decline  of  the  other. 
Well,  so  she  had  decided  it  to  be.  It  was  too  late, 
too  late  now. 

Maddened  by  his  own  pain,  he  asked  himself, 
"  Why  had  he  come  back  to  see  it  ? "  And  he 
remembered  clearly  he  had  never  anticipated  the 
despair,  the  regret,  the  sick,  disordered  agony  he 
felt  now.  lie  had  fancied  in  his  two  months' 
absence  he  had  grown  resigned,  and  he  had 
thought  it  was  merely  curiosity  that  had  brought 
him  back.  His  life  held  so  much  beyond  and  out- 
side this  girl,  and  his  habit  never  to  recall  the  past, 
and  never  to  regret  the  absent,  was  so  fixed  that 
her  influence  over  him  had  sunk  rapidly  in  that 
time.  The  high  road  to  all  love  must  be  the 
senses,  and  there  are  few  bye-ways.  The  artist, 
with  his  exquisitely  keen  imagination,  can  love  in 
absence  ;  for  to  him,  unless  he  wishes,  there  is  no 


170  PAULA 

absence  :  he  can  reproduce  at  will  the  colour,  form, 
and  voice  of  his  mistress  ;  he  can  have  the  touch 
and  sight  of  her  through  his  imagination  as  keenly 
as  through  his  senses.  But  the  average  man 
cannot.  There  is  no  way  in  which  he  can  realise 
the  touch  and  the  sight,  and  without  the  touch  and 
the  sight  his  passion,  even  his  love  dies.  Vincent 
had  none  of  the  artistic  imagination,  only  the 
artist's  extreme  susceptibility  of  the  senses.  Away 
from  Paula  he  had  been  unconscious  almost  of  his 
love ;  here,  brought  again  under  the  sensory  in- 
fluence, his  realisation  of  it  became  terrible.  Here 
too  there  was  more  than  the  mere  sensory  in- 
fluence—  there  was  the  tremendous  stimulus  to 
his  vanity. 

Paula  had  been  right  in  her  judgment  of  him 
when  she  felt  that  this  man  would  never  love 
her  poor,  humble,  obscure,  as  he  did  now  in  the 
blaze  of  her  realised  talents  and  powers.  There 
was  such  a  subtle  flattery  in  the  thought  that 
hovered  in  his  brain,  that  she  who  stood  there 
mistress  of  the  house,  acclaimed,  applauded, 
petted,  envied,  spoiled,  admired,  would  be  sub- 
missive to  his  slightest  command,  tremulous  with 
pleasure  at  his  touch,  obedient  to  his  will.  It  wras 
so  in  fact.  It  might  have  been  apparent  to  all ; 
and  now  he  was  for  ever  an  outsider — a  mere 
railcd-off  spectator  like  the  rest.  The  sweetness 
of  the  flattery  seduced  his  brain,  and  the  pain  of 
the  following  realisation  goaded  it,  in  turns. 


PAULA  171 

Cabby  drove  leisurely  onward,  and  the  sky  grew 
pale  and  stretched  its  tender  green  above  the 
glimmering  waste  of  streets,  the  blue  of  the  night 
sky  softened,  and  at  last  the  rose  of  dawn  flushed 
round  it  above  the  dark,  sharp  outlines  of  the 
roofs,  and  the  light,  chill  morning  breeze  blew  in 
upon  the  pale,  damp  face  and  the  unseeing  eyes 
beneath  the  hansom's  lamp.  After  a  time  the  trap 
was  raised. 

"  I  can't  go  no  farther  than  this  'ere,  my  lord," 
came  through  it. 

"  Where  do  you  put  up  ? "  came  back  in  his 
fare's  monotonous  tones.  "  Near  the  Circus, 
Piccadilly?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  just  by  there — Eden  Mews." 

"  Drive  back  then."  They  turned.  Vincent 
looked  at  his  watch.  A  quarter  to  three.  Had 
they  gone  home  yet  ?  he  wondered,  with  a  bitter 
contraction  of  his  mouth.  The  cabman  set  him 
down  at  the  Circus.  Vincent,  stiff  and  chilly, 
though  there  was  sun  now  in  the  air,  drew  his 
overcoat  across  his  evening  dress,  and  started  to 
walk  up  Piccadilly.  Half-way  he  turned  aside, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  more  stood  in  the  fresh 
young  daylight  before  Reeves's  house  and  looked 
up.  There  was  a  light  still  visible  in  the  drawing- 
room  ;  all  the  windows  had  their  blinds  still  down. 
Vincent  looked  up.  His  teeth  were  set,  and  in 
the  haggard  yellow-tinted  cheek,  deep  violet 
hollows  shot  down  far  below  the  eyes. 


i/2  PAULA 

Upstairs,  within,  Reeves  and  Paula  had  not  long 
returned.  She  was  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  with  a  springing  step  as  if  she  could  never 
tire;  her  eyes  seemed  to  burn  and  flame  in  her  pale 
face.  She  talked  and  laughed  incessantly,  holding 
her  cigarette  between  her  teeth,  the  strong  light 
from  above  falling  on  her  hair  as  she  passed  and 
repassed  beneath  the  lamps,  and  making  it  glitter 
in  all  its  marked  waves.  Reeves  subsided  into  an 
arm-chair  and  sipped  a  glass  of  milk  and  soda  at 
intervals :  he  was  beginning  to  feel  a  sort  of 
oppressed  fatigue,  and  his  eyes  followed  her  rest- 
less figure  dubiously.  It  was  almost  maniacal, 
dangerous,  her  excess  of  excitement.  Outside 
the  light  grew  stronger ;  he  could  see  the  slits 
between  the  Venetians  get  brighter,  and  hear  the 
sounds  of  traffic  increasing  in  the  pauses  of 
Paula's  wild  rackety  talk.  Her  beautiful  voice, 
full  of  its  own  music,  was  the  only  sound  within 
the  rooms. 

Reeves  sat  silent :  at  last  he  said  piteously,  and 
almost  as  a  child  might,  with  a  glance  at  the  clock, 
"Aren't  you  coming  to  bed,  dear?" 

Paula  stopped  short  in  her  frenzied  walk  and 
looked  at  him  :  both  soft  little  hands  were  balanced 
on  her  hips,  her  mouth  was  rippling  over  with 
laughter.  Ilcr  eyes  met  his  from  under  her  arched 
lids.  "Poor  Dick!"  she  said,  half  mockingly. 
"You're  thinking,  'Where  do  I  come  in?'  Four 
o'clock  ;   it  is  hard  upon   you.      Well,    I'm  going 


PAULA  173 

now,"  she  turned  to  the  door  as  she  spoke. 
Reeves  had  sprung  to  his  feet. 

"  When  may  I  come  ? "  he  said,  and  his  voice 
trembled. 

Paula  looked  across  at  the  great  marble  clock 
opposite  her.  "  In  fifteen  minutes,  if  you  like," 
she  said  simply,  and  went  out.  She  went  up  the 
broad  staircase  ;  it  was  perfectly  silent :  the  electric 
light  burnt  steadily  amongst  the  palms  and  statues. 
Paula  passed  up,  her  footfall  making  no  sound  on 
the  thick  carpets.  Then  she  stood  in  her  bridal 
room  and  looked  round,  realising  for  the  first  time 
fully  the  step  she  had  taken.  She  stood  in  the 
centre  of  the  floor  motionless.  Outside  she  could 
see  the  May  sunshine  was  strong  upon  the  window, 
the  birds  were  chirruping  gaily  to  one  another ;  it 
was  already  fresh,  glad,  innocent  morning  over  the 
earth.  And  she  stood  and  shivered  in  the  quiet 
rose-hued  room,  so  still,  so  quiet,  with  its  steady 
lights  burning  on,  and  the  rumble  of  the  traffic 
only  coming  dimly  like  a  murmur  from  the 
distance.  It  seemed  like  the  inner  recess  of  some 
secret  temple.  At  the  far  end  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  full-length  reflection  in  a  glass. 
She  was  in  white,  this  was  her  marriage  dress. 
She  was  married.  She  was  about  to  break  the 
greatest  law  of  Nature — the  law  that  a  woman 
shall  mate  only  with  the  man  she  loves.  The 
sweat  broke  out  and  grew  cold  upon  her  skin. 
The  more  she  realised  her  position  the  more  the 


i/4  PAULA 

horror  grew.  Thoughts  of  marriage  inevitably 
brought  the  image  of  Vincent  with  them,  and  her 
womanhood,  stung  and  revolted,  overthrew  the 
artist's  instincts  within  her  and  leapt  up  dismayed 
and  horror-stricken.  The  artist  in  her  loved 
Reeves  as  an  accessory,  an  indispensable  to  the 
work  ;  and  thought  of  her  art  induced  thought  of 
him  naturally  and  painlessly,  but  the  woman  in 
her  loved  Vincent,  and  the  idea  of  love  brought 
him  only  to  her  mind. 

It  was  Vincent's  face  now  that  looked  down 
upon  her  everywhere  from  the  walls.  Vincent's 
voice  seemed  calling  to  her  out  of  space.  Vincent's 
arms  were  stretched  out  to  her.  His  image  filled 
the  room.  Every  instinct  of  her  nature,  every  law 
of  her  being,  demanded  him,  called  for  him,  longed 
for  him.  His  eyes,  his  lips,  his  breath,  where  were 
they  ?  She  extended  her  arms  feebly,  and  gave  a 
little  involuntary  cry ;  her  swimming  eyes  were 
hot  and  blind.  A  vast,  angry  presence  seemed 
with  her  in  the  room,  threatening  her.  "  How  dare 
you,  how  dare  you  surrender  yourself  to  another, 
when  you  are  his — his  by  my  will  and  my  laws? 
My  curse  upon  you  for  ever  and  ever."  And  the 
girl  heard  it  and  her  limbs  tottered  under  her  in 
terror.     It  was  the  voice  of  Nature. 

A  great  horror,  a  nameless,  indefinable,  un- 
reasoning fear  came  over  her;  the  room  seemed 
stifling  her,  the  walls  falling  in  upon  her,  the  great 
wrathful  presence  seemed  descending  from  over- 


PAULA  i 


/  :> 


head,  crushing  and  blinding  her.  To  escape!  she 
rushed  with  the  swirling  darkness  round  her  to  the 
door.  There  were  a  hundred  doors  as  the  room 
reeled  before  her  failing  vision.  She  went  forward, 
and  her  head,  face,  and  bosom  dashed  violently 
against  the  wall.  She  staggered  backwards,  stunned 
and  trembling,  swayed  for  an  instant,  and  then  fell 
senseless  on  the  ground.  The  joyous  sunlight 
burst  through  the  cracks  of  the  blind  and  filled  the 
room  with  soft  light  ;  the  birds  sang  loudly  out- 
side.    Inside  there  was  no  sound. 

When  Reeves,  after  many  gentle  knocks  and 
weary  waits  outside,  at  length  pushed  the  door 
open  and  entered  softly,  he  found  her  there,  the 
brilliant  figure  of  last  night's  triumph,  the  success 
of  the  season,  the  envied  of  half  London,  motion- 
less, unconscious,  her  hands  clenched  in  an  agony 
of  despair,  a  ray  of  sun  striking  across  her  blanched, 
bruised  face. 


VIII 

Twelve  o'clock  the  next  morning  found  the  break- 
fast table  still  littered  over  with  the  breakfast  things. 
Paula,  very  pale,  with  a  purplish  bruise  spreading 
over  her  left  temple,  sat  on  the  sofa  drawn  up  to 
the  table,  languidly  turning  over  the  morning 
newspapers  that  lay  beside  her.  The  jubilant, 
exuberant  sunlight  rushed  through  the  lowered 
blinds  and  lightly-drawn  curtains  of  tinted  lace 
behind  her,  and  stray  shafts  of  it  reached  the  light 
hair  and  made  it  glow  and  glisten. 

"What  have  you  got  there?"  said  Reeves  at 
last,  as  Paula,  sunk  in  a  reverie,  remained  behind 
the  open  TelegrapJi. 

"  A  review  of  last  night — will  you  read  it  to  me?" 
she  answered  wearily ;  "  it's  so  long,  and  my  eyes 
feel  so  tired."  She  handed  him  the  paper  and  sat 
back  in  the  corner  of  the  couch,  listlessly  stroking 
her  hand  backwards  and  forwards  over  its  velvet 
pile  while  Reeves  read.  The  critic  had  done  his 
best  for  her.  No  praise  seemed  too  great  for  the 
play,  the  actress,  the  dance.     At  the  allusions  to 

170 


PAULA  177 

the  beauty  of  her  figure,  a  little  red  flush  crept  into 
her  cheeks  as  she  listened.  Had  those  been  his 
thoughts  too,  all  that  time  he  had  sat  so  motionless 
in  the  box,  looking  down  upon  her?  She  quite 
started  when  Reeves  came  to  the  end  of  the  column 
and  his  voice  ceased  ;  she  had  missed  the  con- 
cluding paragraphs,  which  was  a  pity,  for  they 
were  even  more  rapturous  than  the  rest  She 
looked  up,  and  met  Reeves's  eyes  beaming  upon 
her  as  he  lowered  the  paper. 

"Unparalleled  success," — "her  marvellous  gifts." 
"  Well,  Paula,  are  you  happy  now?  " 

Paula  fixed  her  eyes  upon  him,  the  blood  ebbing 
away  from  her  face :  the  sudden  question  startled 
her,  clashing  in  upon  her  thoughts.  "Happy?" 
she  echoed,  and  then  added,  with  a  strained  smile, 
"What  is  being  happy?  Who  shall  say?  The 
Telegraph  critic  apparently  thinks  I  ought  to  be. 
Here,  what  do  they  say  in  the  Times?" 

Reeves  laid  aside  the  Telegraph  and  took  the 
Times  she  offered  him.  She  listened  as  before, 
silent,  with  bent  head  and  eyes  fixed  on  the  couch 
while  he  read  aloud  her  praises.  She  was  one 
exceptionally  favoured  by  nature  and  fortune,  a 
dramatist  born,  a  genius  fully  revealed.  Paula 
listened,  and  underneath  she  seemed  to  hear  a 
voice  continually  repeating,  "You  are  a  prostitute: 
what  better  ?  "  Was  that  what  he  was  thinking  of 
her  ? 

"It   makes    very    pleasant    reading,   eh?"    said 

12 


173  PAULA 

Reeves,  with  a  laugh,  from  across  the  table,  when 
he  had  exhausted  the  Times'  correspondent's 
opinions. 

"Yes,  it's  very  nice,"  she  answered;  "but  I  don't 
think  I'll  hear  any  more,  it  seems  to  make  my 
head  ache.  You  read  to  yourself."  Then  she  lay 
back  with  closed  eyes.  Reeves  looked  nervously 
at  the  pale  face  for  a  minute,  then  turned  back 
to  reading  the  review,  and  there  was  silence  in  the 
room  except  for  the  occasional  rustling  of  the 
paper. 

Paula  felt  as  if  an  iron  band  were  cutting  into 
her  forehead,  just  above  the  eyes  ;  the  first  full, 
awful  realisation  of  having  made  some  great  error, 
which  she  was  helpless  to  undo,  and  of  which  all 
the  consequences  loomed  indefinably  vague  and 
horrible  before  her,  beat  in  persistently  on  her 
brain.  She  wanted  not  to  think,  to  make  her  mind 
a  blank,  but  she  could  not.  Each  time  she  raised  her 
lids  she  saw  her  husband's  figure  sitting  opposite, 
and  a  sudden  sense  of  suffocation,  a  loathing  of 
his  presence,  filled  her.  And  this  was  the  man  she 
was  to  live  with  day  after  day  for  years ! 

Why  had  she  not  understood  better  ?  Why  had 
she  not  listened  to  Vincent's  warnings?  She  had 
been  absolutely  blind  and  deaf  till  now.  During  her 
engagement  to  Reeves,  while  still  untied  to  him, 
she  had  felt  none  of  this  desperate  revolt.  The 
irrevocable  has  always  a  terror  for  vacillating 
humanity.     How  carelessly  one  walks  in  and  out  of 


PAULA  179 

a  prison  cell  when  merely  on  a  visit  of  inspection; 
it  does  not  strike  one  as  particularly  appalling; 
but  if  suddenly  the  door  shut  upon  us,  shutting  us 
inside,  with  what  an  agony  of  despair  should  we 
see  it  close.  Paula  had  been  with  Reeves  daily, 
going  in  and  out  of  her  cell,  so  to  speak  ;  but  now 
the  door  was  shut,  and  the  key  turned. 

After  a  minute  or  two  she  started  to  her  feet ; 
she  felt  literally  she  was  going  mad.  She  crossed 
towards  the  door.  Reeves  looked  up.  "  Where 
are  you  going?"  he  asked.  The  question  came 
like  fire  to  a  wound.  It  seemed  to  madden  further 
the  girl's  overstrung  nerves.  Was  she  never  to 
move  now  without  sanction  ?  She  stood  still  half- 
way to  the  door,  and  looked  back  to  him.  A 
physiognomist  could  have  read  the  terrible,  stifled 
agony  within  her,  on  her  face.  To  Reeves  she  only 
looked  horribly  pale,  almost  livid,  in  the  warm 
sunlight,  and  haggard  beyond  description.  She 
controlled  herself  with  a  great  effort. 

"  I  am  going  upstairs  to  finish  dressing,"  she 
answered  coldly. 

"  Oh  well,  look  here !  I  must  go  down  to  the 
theatre  this  afternoon ;  you'll  come  too,  won't 
you  ?  "     A  sense  of  relief  passed  through  her. 

"  Must  you  ?     No  ;  I  am  too  tired  to  come." 

"Very  well.  I  shan't  be  away  long,  dear." 
Paula  said  nothing,  and  went  upstairs. 

Late  that  afternoon  Vincent  stood  in  his 
dressing-room,    just   redressed    and    shaved    after 


180  PAULA 

his  sleepless  night.  The  face  that  the  glass  gave 
back  to  him  was  white  and  aged,  seamed  deeply 
by  that  most  terrible  of  all  our  passions,  jealousy. 
"  She  has  succeeded  in  making  me  suffer  as  she 
has  succeeded  in  everything  else,"  he  thought, 
with  a  resentful  bitterness  quite  alien  to  his  usual 
frame  of  thought.  "  It  would  be  a  pity  not  to  go 
and  congratulate  her,"  and  he  went  out,  going 
first  to  his  club,  and  then  on  slowly  with  an  aching 
heart  towards  Paula's  new  residence.  Half-way 
up  Piccadilly  a  friend  met  him,  and  though 
Vincent  would  have  passed  with  a  careless 
smiling  salutation,  the  other  arrested  him  with 
a  chaffing  remonstrance  :  "  My  dear  Halham,  what 
is  the  matter?  You  don't  look  yourself  at  all! 
What  is  it,  eh,  liver?" 

"  No,"  replied  Vincent,  smiling,  and  looking,  as 

his    friend    thought,    "  d d    handsome,"    as    he 

stared  at  the  pallid  face  in  the  sunlight.  "Just 
a  touch  of  cardiac  neuralgia,  that's  all."  He 
tapped  his  chest  lightly  as  he  spoke,  and  after 
some  commiseration  from  his  friend,  passed  on 
with  a  bitter  smile. 

He  found  Paula  sitting  in  the  drawing-room,  of 
which  the  blinds  were  lowered  almost  to  the 
ground.  She  was  on  the  sofa,  leaning  forward, 
her  arms  resting  on  her  knees,  her  hands  clasped 
loosely  together.  She  looked  up  as  he  entered  the 
darkened  room.  Such  a  white  face,  such  pained, 
excited  eyes  met  his.     He  paused  involuntarily  as 


PAULA  181 

his  gaze  took  in  the  disconsolate  figure,  the  crushed, 
drooping  attitude.  This  was  so  different  from  what 
he  had  expected.  He  had  come  from  his  club, 
where  the  talk  had  been  principally  of  Paula,  her 
charm,  her  powers,  her  success,  and  thence  along 
Piccadilly,  where  her  photograph  in  every  con- 
ceivable attitude  and  costume  filled  the  shop 
windows  ;  and  here  he  had  expected  to  find  her 
herself,  radiant,  elated,  proud,  the  centre  of  a  crowd 
of  flatterers,  laughing,  delighted,  overjoyed  by  the 
universal  adulation  and  homage,  and  instead  she 
sat  like  this  alone,  one  solitary  drooping  figure  in 
the  shaded  room,  pallid,  and  her  eyes  darkened  by 
tears,  like  a  mourner  in  a  fresh  bereavement  She 
touched  him  more  like  this  than  as  she  had  been 
the  night  before — more  perhaps  than  she  had  ever 
done.  The  resentment  and  the  anger  against  her 
he  had  been  feeling  died  away  completely,  and  a 
great  pity  for  her  took  their  place. 

Her  face,  her  form,  the  very  position  in  which 
she  sat,  expressed  a  hopeless  dejection.  As  he 
approached  she  rose,  lifted  her  heavy  eyes  to 
his  face  for  a  moment,  and  then  sat  down  as  be- 
fore. He  took  his  seat  beside  her  on  the  couch 
and  covered  one  little  hand  with  his.  She  did 
not  move  away,  nor  alter  her  attitude,  nor  feign 
a  smile.  He  glanced  over  her.  She  was  very 
simply  dressed,  her  hair  merely  twisted  round  her 
head;  there  was  nothing  either  assumed  or  con- 
cealed in  her  grief,  he  saw.     She  neither  displayed 


1S2  PAULA 

it  nor  hid  it.  Whatever  she  might  be  to  the  public 
and  others,  to  him  she  was  the  same  simple,  natural, 
child-like  Paula  as  of  old.  A  tide  of  sympathy 
welled  up  in  his  heart  for  her,  poor  little  girl  !  If 
she  had  made  a  mistake  after  all ! 

Neither  spoke  for  a  long  time,  then  he  said,  "Are 
you  unhappy,  Paula  ?  I  came  to  congratulate  you. 
Every  one  is  talking  of  you  and  your  success." 

"Yes;  oh  yes,  I  know,"  she  said  in  a  suffocated 
voice.  "  But  is  it  worth  it  ?  Oh,  you  don't  know 
what  I  have  suffered,"  she  added,  drawing  away 
her  hand  and  burying  her  face  in  the  sofa  cushions 
with  a  sudden  outburst  of  sobbing,  "last  night  and 
this  morning." 

Vincent  sat  silent,  looking  down  at  the  rugs  at 
their  feet  His  face  had  grown  very  pale.  The 
low  anguished  sobs  beat  through  the  room.  His 
keen  eyes  had  noted  at  once  the  great  violet  bruise 
that  was  spreading  now  all  over  one  side  of  the 
girl's  face,  and  the  sight  of  it  half  paralysed  his 
voice. 

"  I  have  suffered  too,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  low 
tone.  "  I  had  no  sleep  last  night  I  have  not 
closed  my  eyes,  as  you  can  imagine,  since  I  saw 
you  last ;  but  I  thought  at  least  you  were  content 
and  satisfied  with  the  arrangement." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  sobbed  Paula,  sitting  up  and 
clasping  his  nerveless  hand  between  her  two  burn- 
ing palms.  "You  have  been  most  dear  and  good 
to  me  :  you  have  done  all  you  could.     Your  love 


PAULA  183 

is  something  quite  different  from  other  men's,  and 
now  I  have  lost  you  .  .  .  irrevocably  cut  myself 
off  from  you  for  ever  and  ever  .  .  .  don't  you 
understand  what  I  feel  ? "  and  she  bowed  her 
head  forward  on  his  hand,  and  pressed  her  fore- 
head on  it  in  an  agony  of  weeping. 

Vincent  sat  quite  silent  and  motionless  :  watch- 
ing him  one  might  have  thought  he  was  unmoved, 
untouched,  except  for  the  increasing  pallor  of  his 
face  and  the  deepening  of  the  lines  of  pain  about 
his  set  mouth.  He  had  never  anticipated  this.  It 
had  crossed  his  mind  as  a  fitful  fear  several  times, 
that  if,  after  irrevocably  tying  herself,  the  play 
should  not  succeed  ?  Then  he  felt  Paula's  deso- 
lation would  be  intense;  but  after  the  singular,  the 
unequivocal  triumph  of  last  night,  all  doubts  had 
been  allayed.  It  is  the  best  for  her,  he  had  thought 
in  the  midst  of  his  own  pain,  as  the  multitude  had 
applauded,  with  the  shouting  and  the  clapping  in 
his  ears,  and  the  sweet  figure  with  its  face  alight 
with  happiness  before  his  eyes.  It  is  the  best  for 
her !  This  must  be  the  extreme  of  pleasure,  the 
best  that  life  can  give,  for  her.  And  after  seeing 
this  and  thinking  thus,  it  had  never  faintly  occurred 
to  him  that  he  could  find  her  other  than  supremely 
content.  She  had  voluntarily  sacrificed  everything 
else  for  this  one  object  which  she  had  most  un- 
doubtedly obtained  to  the  full,  and  now  this 
despairing  agony  was  incomprehensible  as  well 
as  terrible. 


1 84  PAULA 

Vincent  could  not  quite  fathom  nor  gauge — 
perhaps  no  one  but  an  artist  can — that  fierce, 
intolerable  craving  of  the  artist  for  recognition ;  it 
is  as  blind,  as  unreasoning,  as  implacable  as  hunger 
until  satisfied,  and  then  when  the  craving  is 
assuaged  the  blinded  eyes  are  clear  to  see  again. 
That  desire,  like  every  other,  has  a  ferocity,  a  mad 
intensity  before  gratification,  that  in  no  way  is 
equalled  nor  even  faintly  approached  by  the  joy 
its  fulfilment  can  confer.  In  the  frenzy  of  his 
ambition,  when  carried  away  by  the  exaltation  and 
enthusiasm,  the  artist  will  accept  everything,  con- 
sent to  anything,  for  the  sake  of  his  art.  His  life 
itself  seems  of  no  consequence  beside  it;  but  this 
almost  superhuman,  this  transitory  fervour  past, 
his  art  ceases  to  console  him  for  the  ashes  of  his 
ruined  life.  But  Vincent,  though  he  could  not 
exactly  trace  her  sorrow  to  its  source,  saw  the 
reality  of  it  and  the  intensity,  and  he  felt  acutely 
there  had  been  a  false  step  somewhere,  that  in 
some  way  she  had  missed  the  path  to  her  happi- 
ness. And  the  room  in  its  warm  afternoon  light 
seemed  to  grow  grey  around  him  as  he  realised 
it,  listening  to  those  convulsive  sobs. 

"  Paula,  listen  to  me,"  he  said  at  last,  moving  his 
hand,  still  clasped  in  hers,  and  drenched  by  her 
hot  tears.     "  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

Paula  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him. 

"  What  is  it  ?  tell  me  all.  You  chose  this  course 
yourself,"    he   said    very    gently.      "  What   is   the 


PAULA  185 

meaning  of  this  great  bruise?  What  is  the  matter  ? 
Is  Reeves " 

"  No,  oh  no  ;  I  have  no  fault  to  find.  Reeves  is 
very  good  and  kind  to  me.  But  it  is  you  I  want, 
you  I  love.  I  want  to  be  with  you,"  she  said 
passionately,  slipping  to  her  knees  from  the  couch 
and  kneeling  so  at  his  feet  before  him  while  she 
raised  her  face  to  his.  "  And  now  I  have  lost  you 
utterly.  I  feel  it,  I  know  it.  It  was  for  you 
principally  I  wanted  to  succeed.  I  wanted  to 
show  you  all  I  could  do,  to  let  you  see  my  powers. 
It  was  you  all  the  way  through;  I  longed  so  to  shine 
in  your  eyes,  I  wanted  to  prove  to  you  that  you 
had  the  love  not  only  of  an  ordinary  little  girl  like 
any  other,  but  of  one  who  could  be  great  if  she 
chose  :  it  was  a  love  worthy  of  you — worthy  of 
your  acceptance — I  got  blinded.  I  did  not  feel  as 
if  I  were  losing  you — and  now — and  now,  nothing 
is  anything  to  me  without  you." 

The  words  poured  in  one  unbroken  stream  from 
her  lips,  her  pallid  face  looked  grey,  the  tears 
flowed  unchecked  from  beneath  her  swelled  eyelids 
as  she  gazed  up  longingly,  despairingly,  into  his 
grave  face  above  her.  Vincent  looked  down  upon 
her  and  put  his  arms  round  her,  folding  her  a  little 
closer  to  him,  very  gently,  as  one  might  a  sobbing 
child. 

To  many  men,  perhaps  to  most,  to  see  this  figure 
that  last  night  had  been  the  magnet  for  hundreds 
of  admiring  eyes,  kneeling  thus  at  his  feet,  broken 


1 86  PAULA 

and  weeping,  desolated  in  the  midst  of  her  triumph, 
because  he  was  lost  to  her,  would  have  brought,  if 
not  arrogant  pleasure,  at  least  a  glow  of  satisfied 
self-love  and  pride.  To  Vincent  it  only  brought 
the  keenest  pain.  To  his  refined,  sensitive  mind 
it  seemed  horrible,  an  unnatural  anomaly,  as  it 
seemed  sometimes  when  the  pheasants  fell  before 
his  gun.  It  was  satisfactory  to  know  one's  skill, 
but  all  pleasure  was  lost  in  the  vague  sense  that  it 
was  misdirected  against  a  thing  both  beautiful  and 
harmless,  a  perversion  of  power.  So  here  he  saw 
how  great  his  influence  was,  to  possess  so  much 
over  another  human  life,  and  for  it  but  to  mean  the 
wrecking  and  the  breaking  and  the  ruin  of  it,  filled 
him  with  revolt  against  himself. 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done  now,  Paula," 
he  said  at  last,  "to  accept  your  life  as  it  is.  You  have 
a  brilliant  success ;  live  in  the  thought  of  that  as 
far  as  you  can.  Throw  me  out  of  your  recollection 
entirely.  I  am  leaving  England  to-day,  and  shall 
not  come  back  for  years  ;  perhaps  I  may  never 
come  back.  Cease  to  think  of  me,  darling,  as 
living  ;  that  is  the  only  thing  to  be  done  now." 

He  felt  her  tremble  violently  in  his  arms  :  it 
reminded  him  of  the  death-quiver  of  a  shot  bird. 
"  I  am  so  sorry  1  came  back  now,"  he  murmured, 
in  desperate  self-reproach,  "but  you  told  me  to 
come  to  see  you  and  witness  your  triumph,  and 
I  did  not  think  you  cared  for  me  still  in  this  way." 
lie  might  have  added  with  justice,  "  I  never  could 


PAULA  187 

have  supposed  you  would  have  married  another  if 
you  had ;  "  but  it  was  not  his  way  to  reproach  any- 
body but  himself. 

"  Paula,  do  you  understand  me  ? "  he  went  on 
after  a  second,  as  she  made  no  answer.  His  own 
agony,  his  own  jealousy,  his  own  sickness  of  desire, 
were  swept  away  utterly  in  his  sudden  terror  for 
her  and  her  future.  "  You  must  do  this  ;  it's  the 
only  way  to  make  your  life  livable  ;  it's  no  use  to 
think  of  the  past,  not  even  to  glance  at  it.  Live 
for  your  art  now." 

"  I  have  killed  myself  for  it." 

"  No ;  you  have  only  just  begun  to  live.  In  a 
year's  time,  or  less,  you  will  have  succeeded  in  for- 
getting me  if  you  try." 

"  Will  you  come  back  in  a  year,  and  see  if  I  have 
forgotten  ?  " 

Vincent  shook  his  head,  looking  down  into  the 
bloodshot,  swimming  eyes.  "You  have  to  face 
your  life  without  me.  It  is  useless  to  look  for  my 
return  ;  as  useless  as  the  return  itself  would  be." 

Paula  said  nothing.  She  only  grew  very  cold 
and  trembled  excessively.  Vincent  felt  he  ought 
to  leave  her,  and  had  no  strength  to  unlock  his 
arms  and  rise.  Minutes  of  agony  passed,  and 
each  second  that  the  clock  ticked  out  seemed  to 
physically  wound  the  girl's  sick  brain.  At  last 
Vincent  bent  over  her  and  kissed  her,  and  she  knew 
the  moment  of  their  farewell  had  come.  He  lifted 
her  on  to  the  couch.   She  slipped  from  his  arms  down 


1 83  PAULA 

on  to  it,  and  lay  there  as  a  corpse.  Vincent  hesi- 
tated beside  her.  It  zvas  the  corpse  of  the  woman 
he  had  known.  As  he  went  down  and  through 
the  hall,  his  eye  caught  the  marble  plate  on  the 
side-table.  As  he  had  passed  it  before  he  had 
noticed  it  was  empty,  now  a  number  of  cards, 
small  narrow  ones  predominating,  filled  it. 

"  She  was  at  home  to  no  one  but  you,  sir,"  said  the 
servant,  with  a  badly  concealed  grin,  as  he  noticed 
Vincent's  glance  at  the  plate.  Vincent  recognised 
her  reckless  indifference  to  appearances.  He  said 
nothing,  and  passed  out.  In  the  bright  sunlight  of 
Piccadilly  he  paused  to  look  once  more  in  at  the 
photographs  that  hung  in  a  line  along  the  middle 
of  the  glass  panes  of  the  shop  windows,  and 
attracted  a  little  crowd  of  young  men  in  irre- 
proachable frock-coats  and  hats,  and  with  high 
white  collars  round  their  craning  necks.  He  stood 
amongst  them,  listening  with  sad  dulled  perception 
to  their  remarks,  and  looking  into  the  brilliant  eyes 
that  laughed  at  him  across  the  glass. 

Was  there  really  any  truth  in  the  legend  of  the 
Envy  of  the  Gods  ?  he  wondered  sadly  as  he  heard 
the  admiring  comments  and  the  openly  expressed 
cnviousness  of  the  women  standing  just  in  front  of 
him,  and  recalled  the  smitten  figure  he  had  left. 
A  portrait  of  Reeves  was  stuck  up  beside  hers,  and 
there  were  many  comments  anent  him  and  the 
marriage.  Opinions  that  he  was  "a  lucky  devil" 
were  freely  volunteered.     Hypotheses  of  changing 


PAULA  189 

places  with  him  were  mockingly  exchanged,  and 
Vincent  hearing,  suddenly  pushed  his  way  violently 
out  of  the  little  ring,  feeling  the  wild  brute  jealousy 
surge  up  again  in  hot  angry  waves  from  the  darkest 
recesses  of  his  soul.  Not  his,  but  mine !  shouted 
all  the  instincts  within  him,  and  they  clamoured 
the  fiercer  because  he  knew  that  every  one  of  those 
men  he  left  behind  to  stare  at  her  portrait  would 
envy  him,  if  they  knew,  even  his  pain. 


IX 


Nearly  ten  months  had  gone  by  since  Paula's 
marriage,  and  her  life  had  flowed  evenly  along 
in  its  channel  of  success.  Her  name  was  well 
known  now  all  over  England,  and  familiarly 
gossiped  about  in  the  dramatic  world  in  America. 
Her  own  play,  "  Fidelia,"  was  still  running,  and 
every  night  the  house  was  crowded  as  it  had  been 
from  the  first.  Her  talents  were  undisputed,  her 
right  to  the  enviable  and  much  envied  position  she 
had  obtained,  unquestioned.  For  ten  months  her 
life  had  been  a  buoyant  floating  on  a  rising  tide  of 
ease,  prosperity,  success,  fame  and  admiration;  and 
to  herself  these  ten  months  had  been  empty, 
barren  of  pleasure.  For  ten  months  her  art  and 
her  genius  had  been  fed  and  satisfied,  and  had 
given  her  all  they  could  in  return  ;  and  for  ten 
months  her  nature  had  been  slowly  grinding  her 
small  between  its  mill-stones. 

The  admiration  had  ceased  to  stimulate,  the 
fame  had  ceased  to  charm,  the  success  become  a 
thing  to  be  taken  for  granted.     The  very  exercise 

190 


PAULA  191 

of  her  powers,  the  nightly  attendance  at  the 
theatre  had  become  a  drag,  a  wearisome  necessity, 
a  duty  and  a  work  in  which  her  spirit  was  broken. 
The  companionship  of  her  husband  was  irksome, 
tedious  without  being  repulsive  :  he  was  not  un- 
kind, he  was  not  cruel,  he  was  simply  a  bore.  The 
troubles  and  pains  of  her  life  now  were  not  acute 
ones ;  there  was  one  large,  wide,  overspreading, 
heavy  trouble — the  deadly  monotony  of  it,  the 
dreary  emptiness,  the  sense  of  waste,  the  sense  of 
the  absence  of  pleasure.  This  life  that  to  others 
seemed  so  brilliant,  was  to  the  one  who  lived  it 
a  grey,  colourless  desolation.  And  to  a  volcanic 
nature  like  Paula's,  any  form  of  life  was  better 
suited  than  a  painless  and  pleasureless  inertia. 
Her  passions  did  not  die  in  it ;  they  simply  slept 
uneasily,  tossing  and  stirring  low  down  in  the 
depths  of  her  nature,  and  sending  a  sickness  all 
through  it. 

She  had  been  working  hard.  She  worked 
incessantly,  so  none  of  her  trouble  could  be  traced 
to  the  morbidness  of  an  idle  woman.  She  had 
written  and  completed  a  new  play  that  was  ready 
for  production  now,  had  had  her  own  part  to 
rehearse,  and  new  dances  to  invent  and  then 
practise,  besides  superintending  all  the  other  parts 
and  the  staging  of  the  whole.  She  practised  her 
dancing  untiringly,  and  perhaps  in  those  hours 
spent  before  the  glasses,  arranged  so  that  she  could 
see    every    pose    and    attitude — hours    when    the 


192  PAULA 

reflections  gave  back  to  her  her  flushed  cheeks  and 
leaping  bosom,  some  of  the  old  joy  in  her  art  came 
to  her  again;  but  mere  work  without  some  great 
aim  to  accomplish,  some  great  obstacles  to  conquer, 
was  not  enough  to  fill  up  her  life,  though  it  might 
use  up  her  time.  Now  her  aim  was  accomplished 
and  she  had  no  obstacles  to  vanquish,  since  no  one 
now  denied  her  the  recognition  she  had  once 
thirsted  for  so  savagely.  She  worked  merely  to 
maintain  the  place  she  had  won,  and  there  grew 
into  the  work  something  mechanical  which  was 
different  from  the  enthusiasm  of  the  winning. 
Besides,  a  disposition  like  hers,  with  its  immense 
capacity  of  loving,  needed,  and  always  would  need, 
something  sweeter  and  nearer  in  life  than  the 
applause  of  the  multitude. 

As  distraction  from  the  work,  she  had  unlimited 
society,  and  of  the  intellectual  and  artistic  kind  she 
liked  ;  she  had  also  that  which  would  have  been, 
certainly  for  most  women,  an  alleviation  of  life — 
flirtations  without  number;  but  Paula,  though  she 
flirted  in  a  half-hearted,  passionless  sort  of  way, 
did  so  rather  because  it  gave  the  men  who  admired 
her  pleasure,  and  because  it  was  more  or  less  ex- 
pected of  her  in  her  character  of  popular  actress, 
by  her  husband  as  well  as  everybody  else,  than  it 
gave  her  personal  amusement 

She  was  filled  with  a  slow  consuming  dislike  of 
her  husband — a  dislike  that  she  felt  was  unjust  and 
partly  cruel,  and  that  she  fought  with  daily  and 


PAULA  193 

hourly,  but  in  vain  :  it  grew  in  spite  of  herself,  it 
spread  throughout  her  whole  moral  system,  and 
she  was  conscious  of  it  spreading  without  the 
power  to  stay  it.  Sometimes  this  dislike,  this  dis- 
taste, rose  almost  to  hatred  within  her,  and  in  such 
moments  she  would  passionately  try  to  subdue  it, 
to  wrench  it  out  of  her  heart.  It  was  a  plant  that 
was  foreign  to  that  soil,  and  its  unnatural  growth 
hurt  her.  Like  the  Greek  Antigone,  hers  was  a 
nature  that  was  born  for  loving  not  hating,  and  the 
presence  of  this  feeling,  that  she  tried  hard  to  con- 
trol and  could  not,  troubled  her  almost  as  much  as 
the  presence  of  the  man  who  excited  it 

Reeves  had  been  the  means  by  which  she  had 
blighted  her  life  as  well  as  made  it,  but  any  injury 
he  had  caused  in  the  past,  had  it  ended  in  the  past, 
she  would  have  forgiven  easily:  that  was  not  the 
root  of  resentment  against  him  now.  It  was  the 
fact  that  he,  and  he  alone,  stood  between  her  now, 
at  the  present  time,  hourly,  momentarily,  and  her 
happiness;  that  he  was  the  barrier  between  her  and 
her  desires,  the  chain  bound  round  her  cramped 
soul,  thirsting  after  its  liberty.  She  could  not  for- 
give this,  could  not  forget  it;  because  it  was  an  ever- 
recurring  injury,  she  could  perpetually  fight  against 
her  resentment  of  it,  and  that  was  all  she  could  do. 
He  was  the  block  in  the  path  to  everything  she 
most  wished  and  longed  for.  And  at  times  she 
hated  him  with  an  intensity  proportionate  to  the 
intensity  of  the  desires  he  frustrated. 


194  PAULA 

She  could  not  help  nor  destroy  nor  lessen  this 
violence  of  all  her  feelings,  any  more  than  she 
could  alter  the  rapid  circulation  of  the  blood  in  her 
veins,  make  the  warm  current  lethargic  and  the 
quick  pulses  beat  slowly.  She  could  keep  reins 
upon  her  actions  and  words,  a  perpetual  repression 
upon  herself,  and  that  was  all.  This  she  did,  and 
the  constant  warfare  within  told  upon  her  and  took 
away  her  strength,  little  by  little.  Nature  was 
slowly,  inexorably,  resistlessly  destroying  the  one 
who  had  dared  to  defy  her  commands. 

It  was  Sunday  afternoon,  and  she  was  crouching 
over  the  fire.  It  was  dusk  already,  for  the  rain 
poured  steadily  outside  from  the  black,  fog-laden 
sky.  Behind  her  stretched  the  long  drawing-room, 
with  the  shadows  gambolling  and  frisking  through 
and  about  the  furniture  as  the  flames  leapt  amongst 
the  coals  in  the  grate.  She  sat  with  her  hands  out- 
stretched to  the  fire,  and  eyes  staring  down  into  its 
red  heart.  She  had  sat  there  over  an  hour,  when 
a  sudden  ring,  followed  by  a  knock,  went  through 
the  perfect  stillness  of  the  flat.  She  started 
violently,  recognising  Vincent's  knock  directly. 
In  a  few  seconds  he  came  in,  and  she  rose  and 
stood  by  the  hearth,  with  the  light  of  the  fire 
behind  her.  He  saw  that  her  figure  had  rounded, 
grown  fuller,  and  seemed  even  more  supple  than 
formerly  ;  the  fire-glow  burned  on  her  soft  light 
hair  as  she  stood  waiting.  He  came  forward  and 
shook  hands,  remembering  vaguely  that  she  at  one 


PAULA  195 

time  used  to  advance  to  him  ;  now  she  waited 
merely,  and  when  they  had  shaken  hands,  dropped 
back  into  the  chair  and  her  old  position. 

"  I  have  only  just  come  back  ;  my  first  visit  is 
to  you.  I  could  not  stay  away  any  longer,"  he 
said,  as  she  did  not  speak.  "  I  wish  I  could  see 
you  looking  a  little  happier." 

"  I  can  never  be  happy,"  returned  Paula  in  a  low 
voice.     "  Where  have  you  been  ?" 

"  In  Australia,  at  work,"  he  said.  There  was  a 
long  silence. 

"  Have  you  ever  thought  of  me  ? "  she  asked. 
The  tone  was  low.  There  was  a  desperate  accent 
in  it,  and  a  peculiar  meaning.  It  seemed  to  go 
through  the  room. 

"  Yes.     Far  too  often  for  my  own  peace." 

"  Have  you  been  alone  all  this  time  ? "  The 
voice  came  hard,  as  if  it  was  difficult  for  her  to 
form  the  question. 

"  Quite  alone,"  he  answered.  There  was  a  deep, 
long  silence.  It  seemed  a  great  gulf  between 
them.  Neither  met  the  other's  eyes.  A  fierce 
delight  and  a  horrible  sense  of  approaching  danger 
seemed  fighting  together  in  the  air  above  their 
heads.  Paula  looked  at  him  at  last,  with  dry, 
white  lips. 

"Take  me  to  live  with  you  now,"  she  said  in  a 
low  tone. 

Vincent  did  not  answer :  his  heart  gave  one 
great  leap  at  her  words,  but   the  thought,   "  You 


196  PAULA 

must  not,"  came  immediately  after  and  held  him 
silent.  He  sat  back  motionless  in  the  arm-chair, 
his  chin  resting  upon  one  hand,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  her.  Paula's  gaze  met  them  through  a  dim 
hot  mist  of  tears. 

"Are  you  so  unhappy?"  he  said  quietly,  at 
length. 

"Unhappy!"  echoed  Paula,  lying  back  also  in 
her  chair  and  letting  both  arms  overhang  the 
sides  despairingly.  "  I  am  dying ;  morally  and 
physically — can't  you  see  it  ?  "     Then  she  added  : 

"  But  you  haven't  seen  me  yet "   and  she  bent 

down  with  one  of  her  impulsive  movements,  seized 
the  brass  poker  from  the  fender,  and  stirred  the  fire 
into  one  brilliant  gaseous  blaze.  "Now  look  at 
me,"  and  she  leant  forward  so  that  the  light 
illuminated  all  her  face  and  looked  at  him  through 
it. 

Some  of  its  own  natural  sweetness  came  back  to 
it  as  she  looked  into  his  eyes,  but  he  saw  the 
hollows  beneath  the  eyebrow  bone,  the  hungry 
fierceness  in  the  wide  pupils,  the  hard  "dragged 
look  about  the  mouth  ;  on  it  all  was  the  impress, 
the  seal  of  her  thwarted,  starved  and  driven,  but 
unconquered  nature.  Vincent  looked  at  her  in- 
tently and  could  not  read  nor  name  the  strange, 
and  to  a  practised  eye,  fearful  expression  of  her 
face.  His  life  was  given  to  practical  pleasures  and 
pains,  not  to  the  psychological  analyses  of  them, 
and    the   simple    impression    produced    upon    him 


PAULA  197 

found    expression    in    the    simple    phrase,    "  You 
don't  look  well,  dear."     But  a  tremendous  pity  was  ' 
stirred   in   him    and    a  vague  alarm  by  her  look, 
though  he  could  not  classify  it  and  docket  it  with 
its  full  meaning. 

"  Let  me  come  to  you,"  she  said  again,  plead- 
ingly, and  the  music  of  the  tones  was  incompar- 
able; it  came  into  them  unconsciously  when  she 
was  with  him  just  as  the  sweetness  to  her  face.  It 
was  a  voice  now  that  Reeves  and  others  never 
heard.  "  Take  me  to  live  with  you,"  she  mur- 
mured, and  the  tears  welled  up  in  her  eyes  and  fell 
slowly,  like  drops  of  blood  in  the  firelight,  as  she 
still  sat  forward  with  her  arms  leaning  on  her 
knees  and  her  hands  clasped.  "  I  have  tried  to 
live  with  him,  have  tried  to  follow  my  art,  have 
tried  to  do  all  you  told  me,  but  it  is  killing  me; 
and  this  man  kills  me,  he  draws  out  and  develops 
all  that  is  bad  in  mc,  so  that  I  don't  recognise 
myself.  I  hate  him  and  loathe  him,  though  1 
fight  against  it  day  and  night,  and  this  existence 
debases  and  degrades  me.  It  can't  be  right,  it 
can't  be  well,  to  go  on  with  it.  It  is  destroying 
every  good  quality  within  me.  I  would  give  up 
everything,  sacrifice  the  world,  lay  down  my  art,  to 
respect  myself  again.  Living  with  you  even  as 
your  servant  would  be  a  better  state  than  living 
as  I  do  now." 

There  was  silence  except  for  the  light  crackling 
of  the  fire,  which  threw  its  glow  over  their  faces 


198  PAULA 

and  showed  them  to  each  other — the  man's  grave 
and  drawn,  the  woman's  pallid  and  desperate. 
Their  mutual  passion  seemed  like  a  huge,  breath- 
ing, living  beast  crouched  between  them  in  the 
firelight,  oppressing  them  both  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  its  presence.  And  this  monster  now  was 
but  that  same  innocent,  joyous  affection  they  had 
felt  a  few  months  back  transformed  by  circum- 
stances. It  is  one  of  the  commonest  revenges  of 
Nature  for  her  slighted  goods.  Constantly  in 
youth  she  proffers  to  the  heedless  human  being 
her  richest  gift  without  payment,  in  innocent 
freedom,  and  constantly  it  is  then  passed  by,  and 
sooner  or  later  in  after  years  he  is  forced  to  buy  it 
in  blood  and  tears,  and  at  the  price  of  his  soul. 
Something  of  all  this  forced  itself  painfully  on  the 
man  as  he  sat  there. 

"  Why  have  you  put  yourself  in  such  a  painful 
position  ?"  he  said  slowly,  at  last.  "  You  would  not 
come  to  me  before;  now  to  leave  him  might  only 
be  another  mistake." 

"But  you  would  like  me  to,  wouldn't  you?"  she 
said  in  a  barely  audible  whisper,  stifled  by  a  sense 
of  shame. 

"  I  should  like  nothing  that  would  end  in  your  un- 
happincss,"  returned  Vincent  quietly.  Then  there 
was  a  long  silence,  in  which  the  sound  of  their  own 
hearts  seemed  throbbing  loudly  through  the  room. 

"  I  should  be  so  sorry  to  overthrow  all  that  your 
work  has  produced,"  he  said  after  a  minute;  "can't 


PAULA  199 

you  see  that?  I  see  that  there's  a  new  play  an- 
nounced ;  that's  your  own,  of  course  ?  " 

Paula  nodded. 

"You  have  so  much  now — you've  achieved  so 
much  in  your  art." 

"  Yes ;  but  one's  art  cannot  console  one  for  break- 
ing the  first  law  of  one's  nature." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  before  you  married  ?  " 

"  I  know  you  did,  but  I  was  blind  then.  I  can 
see  the  truth  now,  and  I  want  to  undo  the  error." 

"  I  am  afraid  it's  too  late." 

"  That  means,  I  suppose,  you  don't  care  for  me 
any  more  ?" 

Vincent  got  up,  feeling  his  judgment  leaving  him. 
"No;  I  am  accustomed  to  mean  what  I  say.  I  am 
afraid  it  is  too  late  to  secure  your  own  happiness 
now,  whatever  we  do." 

"  I  will  do  anything  you  tell  me,"  she  said  im- 
pulsively, and  pressed  her  soft  lips  on  his  hand. 

He  smiled  a  little  sadly.  "  If  you  would  have 
done  what  I  told  you  all  along,  you  would  have 
saved  us  both  a  good  deal  of  suffering,"  he  said 
gently.  "  Good-bye,  dear  ;  I  shall  be  at  the  theatre 
to-morrow  evening,  and  all  this  week.  Let  me  see 
you  doing  your  very  best." 

"  You  shall,"  murmured  Paula,  and  he  went  out. 
When  he  was  gone  she  got  up  and  went  upstairs, 
turned  the  key  in  the  lock  of  the  bedroom  door, 
and  threw  herself  face  downwards  on  the  bed, 
praying,  in  the  wild  passionate  way  in  which  she 


200  PAULA 

had  prayed  from  her  childhood  upwards,  to  some 
vague  God  only  half  believed  in,  praying  for  some 
help  and  guidance  in  the  dark  night  that  had  over- 
taken her  in  the  morning  of  her  life. 

Vincent  walked  into  Piccadilly  and  down  it  with 
a  pale  and  abstracted  face.  He  was  accustomed  to 
do  that  which  he  considered  the  right  without  either 
praying  or  weeping  over  it,  but  here  his  path  was 
not  well  defined,  and  he  felt  how  easily  the  worse 
might  appear  the  better  reason.  Had  Paula  been 
a  different  woman,  with  a  more  tractable,  docile 
nature,  with  less  self-will,  and  of  a  lower-strung 
temperament,  he  would  have  tried  to  maintain  his 
present  position  for  her  sake,  thinking  that  in  time 
she  might  settle  down  in  the  life  she  had  chosen. 
But  in  a  nature  like  this,  so  fierce,  almost  savage, 
in  its  instincts  and  desires,  he  dreaded  the  result  of 
this  continued  repression.  He  might  urge  her  to 
accept  her  life,  but  he  had  a  sad  experience  of  her 
obedience  to  others,  even  to  himself.  It  was  a 
somewhat  mythical  quality. 

Vincent  was  at  the  theatre  the  following  evenincr, 
and  all  the  subsequent  ones  of  that  week,  as  he  had 
promised  her,  but  he  did  not  come  to  her  house, 
nor  did  he  hear  from  her.  Her  eyes  met  his  over 
the  flare  of  the  footlights,  and  two  rows  of  well- 
filled  stalls,  with  a  mute  supplication — that  was  all. 
Night  after  night,  as  he  lay  sleepless  and  wretched, 
her  face  rose  before  him,  with  its  terrible  look  of 
revolt  and  appeal.     That  must  find  its  expression 


PAULA  201 

at  last,  if  not  in  the  sweeter,  more  human  fault  of 
coming  to  his  arms,  then  possibly  in  some  horrible, 
unnatural  way — and  here  thought  stopped  short 
He  could  not  contemplate  further. 

He  hesitated  to  take  her  out  of  her  life  now,  but 
he   could    not   help  feeling   it  was  more   fashion, 
custom    and    prejudice,  that  was  influencing   him 
than   the  ethical   right   of  the   question.     "Before 
her  marriage,"  he  thought,  "  I  called  it  prostitution  ; 
yet  if  by  chance  she  had  fallen  to  that,  I   should 
have  no  doubt  but  that  I  ought  to  take  her  from 
it  now."     Had  she  made  any  other  mistake,  been 
misguided   in  any  other  matter  but  marriage,  no 
one  would  have  blamed  her  for  trying  to  undo  the 
error.     In  the  question  of  marriage  alone,  it  is  not 
allowed    to    the   human    being    to    come    forward 
frankly  and  say,    "  I   have  made  a  mistake :    let 
me  undo  it  as  far  as  I  can  :  give  me  a  fresh  start, 
let  me  try  to  do  better."      In  all  other  phases  of 
life  the  man  who  starts  on  a  wrong  road  and  turns 
resolutely    back    from    it    is    applauded    for    his 
courage.      In  marriage  alone  the  world   says,  "If 
you  find  yourself  on  the  wrong  road,  tread  it  to 
the   grave."      He    thought    and    rethought    these 
things,  his  brain   working  in   an    agonising  circle, 
and   the  days   slipped    by  without   bringing   him 
anv  nearer  a  decision. 


X 


Sunday  had  come  round  again,  and  the  afternoon 
found  Paula  walking  round  and  round  her  drawing- 
room  just  as  the  lion  paces  round  and  round  its 
cage.  Reeves  had  gone  out  to  luncheon  and  would 
not  be  back  till  their  dinner-hour :  he  had  pressed 
Paula  to  come,  but  she  had  excused  herself  on  the 
ground  of  feeling  ill.  Her  drawn,  haggard  face  and 
feverish  eyes  fully  bore  out  her  statement,  and 
Reeves  had  left  protesting  he  would  not  be  long, 
he  would  come  back  early,  and  so  on.  "  Oh,  be 
away  as  long  as  you  can,"  was  Paula's  inward 
impatient  comment,  and  she  watched  him  go  with 
a  feeling  of  relief.  Luncheon  was  served  for  her 
alone,  and  after  attempting  to  eat  and  failing,  she 
went  back  to  the  drawing-room  to  resume  her 
aimless  walk.  She  tried  to  think,  but  in  some 
curious  way  she  seemed  losing  control  over  her 
thoughts.  Clear,  consecutive  thought  seemed  im- 
possible to  her  now.  If  she  took  the  simplest 
subject  she  could  not  think  it  out  to  the  end. 
"  What  is  the  matter  with  me  ? "  she  asked  herself, 

2'J2 


PAULA  203 

and  a  sort  of  sick  horror  crept  over  her.  She  went 
up  to  the  cases  of  books  that  stood  facing  her 
against  the  wall  and  read  their  titles  over  to  herself. 
They  seemed  to  convey  no  meaning  to  her.  She 
took  out  one,  a  copy  of  Martial,  and  turned  over 
its  leaves,  but  she  could  not  fix  her  attention  on 
any  line  in  it.  It  seemed  like  an  unknown,  un- 
familiar thing.  "  And  Latin  used  to  be  so  easy 
and  so  interesting.     What  can  be  the  matter  ?  " 

She  turned  from  the  books,  the  tears  welling  up 
to  her  eyes,  and  looked  round  the  room.  There 
was  nothing  to  answer  her;  the  fire  crackled  softly 
through  the  silence,  the  handsome  furniture  stood 
unmoved  in  its  place.  She  crossed  back  again  to 
the  table,  and  took  up  one  of  the  papers  lying  on 
it ;  but  that  she  could  not  read  for  more  than  a 
few  seconds  together.  An  indescribable  feeling  of 
illness  took  possession  of  her  if  she  tried  to  force 
her  attention  further.  She  laid  the  paper  down 
and  passed  on  to  the  window,  and  stood  there 
leaning  her  head  against  the  pane.  "  I  suppose  it 
will  snow,"  she  thought,  and  thought  this  several 
times  over  without  realising  it.  She  moved  away 
after  a  few  minutes,  and  walked  round  the  room 
again,  only  conscious  of  an  intense  feeling  of 
illness.  "  Now  so  idiotic  and  once  so  clever,"  she 
thought,  "and  only  ten  months  ago." 

At  the  end  of  the  room  stood  a  small  cabinet. 
She  went  up  to  it  suddenly,  turned  the  key  in  it, 
and    opened    it.     It    was   full    of  her  own    MSS., 


204  PAULA 

whole  plays  and  scenes  and  parts  of  scenes.  She 
drew  out  some  loose  paper  and  read  at  random, 
kneeling  on  the  floor.  A  sense  of  the  merit  of  the 
work  forced  itself  upon  her.  "Yes,  it's  good,"  she 
thought  to  herself.  "It  is  good,  and  I  shall  never 
write  like  that  again — never."  She  thrust  all  the 
papers  back,  and  relocked  the  door.  "  Yes,  I  was 
clever,"  she  thought,  rising  from  her  knees,  "  but  it's 
past  now.  My  cleverness  is  gone,  like  everything 
else."  She  recommenced  her  weary  walk.  The 
palms  of  her  hands  were  burning,  a  dull  pain  rose 
from  the  back  of  her  neck  and  reached  to  the  top 
of  her  forehead,  holding  all  the  back  of  her  head  in 
an  iron  grip.  She  went  round  the  room,  leaning 
at  intervals  against  the  wall. 

"Vincent?  Will  he  come  this  afternoon  or 
not?"  she  asked  herself.  It  seemed  the  only 
thing  she  cared  for,  the  only  thing  that  she  could 
understand.  Her  limbs  trembled,  the  grasp  of 
her  hand  on  the  chairs  she  passed  was  uncertain, 
yet  move  she  must.  She  knew  what  her  illness 
was.  It  was  the  revenge  of  her  outraged  being. 
Her  nature,  that  she  had  dared  to  trample  on,  had 
risen  and  faced  her  now,  and  she  knew  it  was 
stronger  than  she.  She  sat  down  after  a  time 
from  sheer  fatigue  and  leaned  her  head  in  her 
hands.  She  recognised  that  her  suffering  was 
just,  that  she  had  merited  it  all.  She  had 
attempted  the  impossible.  She  had  tried  to 
subdue  the  great  natural  impulses,  to  crush  them 


PAULA  205 

down  and  make  them  subservient  to  one  artificial 
engrafted  desire. 

"  I  ought  to  have  known  I  could  not  do  it — 
could  not  keep  it  up,"  she  thought.  It  was 
sustaining  the  long-drawn-out  conflict  she  felt 
unequal  to,  and  it  is  in  this  that  our  ever-present 
Nature  has  the  advantage  over  us.  An  individual 
can  conquer  his  Nature  once,  as  Paula  in  her 
enthusiasm  could  have  cut  off  her  hand  for  the 
sake  of  her  mental  desires  ;  but  in  the  slow  hourly 
conflict  that  goes  on  day  by  day,  it  is  impossible 
for  the  human  being  to  be  triumphant,  because 
the  very  force  with  which  he  is  fighting  is  taken 
from  him  minute  by  minute.  All  the  splendid 
energies  divinely  implanted  in  this  girl's  body 
and  brain  were  given  now,  squandered  in  the 
pitiful  hourly  struggle  against  overpowering  forces. 
The  greater  the  energy,  the  stronger  the  individual's 
will,  the  more  deplorable,  the  more  extravagant 
the  waste ;  in  this  useless  conflict  against  eternal 
powers,  it  is  as  a  child's  hand  striking  a  brick  wall. 

At  five  her  own  maid  brought  her  a  cup  of  tea. 
Paula  took  it  in  silence.  The  girl  offered  to  light 
the  gas.  No,  her  mistress  preferred  to  sit  in  the 
dusk.  Then  the  maid  lingered  at  the  door. 
"  Well,  what  is  it  ?"  asked  Paula. 

"  Please,  mum,  could  I  go  to  church  this  evening  ? 
I  know  it's  not  my  Sunday  out,  but " 

"  Go  to  church,"  repeated  Paula.  "  No,  you 
can't   this   evening ;  I    may   want   my  hair  done. 


2o6  PAULA 

Why  have  you  become  so  religious  all  of  a  sudden?  " 
The  girl  made  no  answer,  and  withdrew. 

Paula  sat  on  by  the  fire  absorbed  in  her  own  pain, 
and  then  after  a  few  minutes  the  sound  of  sobbing 
reached  her  in  the  silence  of  the  room.  Always 
sympathetic  to  the  sorrows  of  others,  she  got  up 
mechanically  and  went  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and 
stood  for  a  second  in  the  dusk  of  the  threshold. 
The  sound  of  sobbing  was  quite  distinct  now  and 
came  from  the  kitchen,  which  lay  at  the  end  of 
the  passage  facing  her.  She  walked  along  it, 
and  as  she  approached  the  kitchen  door  she  heard 
a  suffocated  voice  repeating,  "  And  him  going  to 
Cape  Town  to-morrow  too;  it's  cruel."  She  pushed 
open  the  door,  and  saw  her  maid  sitting  in  the 
empty  kitchen  by  the  fire  with  her  head  bowed  on 
her  hands,  as  her  mistress  had  sat  in  her  drawing- 
room. 

"  Louie,  what  are  you  crying  for  ?  Who's  going 
to  Cape  Town  ?  " 

"  My  young  man,  mum,"  murmured  the  girl. 

"  Is  it  he  you  want  to  see  then  this  evening?  " 

"Yes,  mum,"  sobbed  the  girl. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  said  Paula,  open- 
eyed.     "  Of  course  you  can  go  for  that." 

"  And  what  about  your  hair,  mum?  "  said  the  girl 
gratefully,  looking  up  and  drying  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  I  will  manage  somehow  without  you;  but 
what  on  earth  made  you  say  you  wanted  to  go  to 
church?" 


PAULA  207 

"Well,  mum,  ninety-nine  mistresses  out  of  a 
hundred  would  let  you  go  to  church,  and  they 
wouldn't  let  you  go  anigh  your  young  man  fer 
anything,  if  they  could  help  it." 

"Oh,  I  see.  Well,  go  at  once  if  you  like;  but  if 
you're  so  fond  of  your  young  man,  take  my  advice 
and  keep  him  with  you." 

"Oh,  I  would  if  I  could,  no  fear,  but  I  can't, 
mum,"  said  the  girl  sorrowfully ;  "  he  will  go,  he's 
like  mad  on  it.     He'd  never  go  if  I  had  my  way." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Paula  softly ;  "  well,  run  off 
now  and  spend  a  long  evening  with  him  anyway." 

And  while  the  girl  was  thanking  her  she  with- 
drew gently,  and  went  back  to  her  own  room.  It  was 
very  dark,  but  some  light  from  the  now  falling 
snow  entered  at  the  long  windows,  and  the  fire 
burned  cheerily.  Between  these  half  lights,  Paula's 
eyes  rested  on  the  stone  cast  of  Vincent  that  she 
had  begged  him  before  her  marriage  to  give  her 
instead  of  a  photograph.  It  was  a  life-sized  bust, 
and  stood  on  a  moderately  high  pedestal  against 
a  velvet  curtain,  facing  you  as  you  entered  the 
door.  As  the  lights  flickered  across  the  face  it 
almost  seemed  to  smile,  and  Paula  crossed  towards 
it  and  flung  her  arms  round  the  shoulders  and  drew 
the  bust  close  till  the  cold  stone  rested  on  the 
warm  human  bosom.  Then  she  bent  over  it  and 
kissed  the  lips  in  a  passion  of  blinding  tears. 
"  Sorrow  and  suffering  and  parting  everywhere," 
she  murmured,  thinking  of  the  girl  she  had  just  left. 


2oS  PAULA 

"  But  you  would  have  spared  it  all  to  me.  I  have 
brought  it  all  upon  myself.  You  would  have 
saved  me." 

She  stood  there  with  her  hot  tears  falling  on  the 
stone  and  laid  her  head  at  last  down  upon  the 
shoulder,  and  twisted  her  arms  tightly  about  its 
neck.  She  was  unconscious  of  how  the  time 
passed.  Her  brain,  exhausted  and  weakened  now 
by  the  pressure  of  one  ever-present  desire,  sank 
easily  into  stupor.  She  welcomed  it :  it  meant 
peace.  The  fire  died  down,  but  still  she  did  not 
move,  and  she  was  still  standing  there  when  the 
door  opened  and  Reeves  entered. 

The  room  was  almost  dark,  but  a  dim  light 
falling  through  the  curtains  was  enough  to  show 
her  attitude  and  catch  the  whiteness  of  the  stone. 
He  had  come  in  with  his  key,  and  Paula,  absorbed 
in  herself,  had  not  heard  him.  As  the  handle  of 
the  sitting-room  door  squeaked  in  his  hand  she 
started  and  moved  from  the  pedestal,  but  not 
before  he  had  seen  her  clearly  standing  there. 
"What  on  earth  are  you  doing,  Paula?"  he  said, 
coming  up  to  her. 

Paula  did  not  answer.  The  fear  of  involving 
Vincent  against  his  will  in  her  affairs  fell  upon  her 
and  held  her  silent.  Inwardly  she  cursed  herself 
for  having  been  found  and  taken  by  surprise. 

"Oh,  I  saw  it  all,"  returned  Reeves;  "you  were 
kissing  that  bust  of  Vincent,  and  I  suppose  that's 
how  you  go  on  with  the  flesh-and-blood   original 


PAULA  209 

when  he's  at  hand."  I  lis  face  was  white  with 
surprised  and  jealous  anger,  Paula  could  divine 
the  expression  of  it  in  the  tones  of  his  voice, 
though  she  could  not  see  it.  She  stepped  to  the 
mantelpiece  and  turned  the  handle  belonging  to 
the  electric  light.  It  illumined  the  lamp  and 
burners  all  over  the  room  on  the  instant,  and 
flooded  both  their  countenances.  She  preferred  to 
face  him  fully  in  it. 

"Your  supposition  is  quite  wrong  then,"  she  said 
coldly,  flinging  herself  into  one  of  the  easy-chairs 
by  the  hearth.  Her  face  was  pale,  the  signs  of 
tears  were  plain  upon  it,  the  traces  of  the  long 
afternoon's  conflict  with  her  passions  were  visible 
in  a  look  of  pain  and  illness. 

"  H'm,"  said  Reeves  satirically. 

Paula  was  silent,  for  very  fear  of  making  matters 
worse  by  anything  she  might  say.  Her  heart  beat 
to  suffocation.  For  herself  she  cared  nothing,  but  to 
drag  Vincent  into  an  unsought,  unmerited  conflict 
with  her  husband  was  the  very  last  thing  she 
desired. 

Reeves  walked  about  the  room  in  silence,  bitine 
nervously  the  cigar  he  had  been  smoking.  "  Well, 
will  you  kindly  tell  the  servants,"  he  said  at  last, 
"to  say  you're  not  at  home  whenever  Vincent  calls 
in  future?  You  sec,  I  can't  quite  think  those  re- 
hearsals go  for  nothing.  Do  you  understand  ?  "  he 
added,  as  she  did  not  answer. 

"  I  hear  what  you  say,  if  that's  what  you  mean," 


210  PAULA 

returned  Paula.  She  was  sitting  back  in  her  chair 
now,  swinging  one  foot  idly  backwards  and  forwards. 

Almost  any  man  would  have  seen  that  it  was 
a  dangerous  moment  to  try  to  use  coercion.  All 
the  impetuous,  passionate  nature  was  already  aflame. 
There  was  an  angry  light  beneath  her  lids,  and  her 
nostrils  beat  nervously,  but  Reeves  saw  nothing, 
blinded  by  his  own  jealous  rage. 

"Well,  do  you  mean  to  do  it?"  he  said,  stopping 
in  front  of  her. 

"  No,  most  certainly  not,"  returned  Paula,  look- 
ing up,  an  arrogant  defiance  in  every  line  of  the 
pale  face;  "I  shall  receive  Vincent,  ot  anybody 
else,  whenever  and  as  often  as  I  choose.  I've  told 
you  there's  nothing  between  us.  If  you  think 
there  is,  that's  your  fault." 

"  I  don't  say  what  I  think.  I  shan't  allow  you 
to  see  him,  that's  all." 

"  Allow!  "  repeated  Paula,  contemptuously.  Her 
eyes  rested  on  him,  alight  with  scorn  and  resent- 
ment ;  her  bosom  heaved  and  her  lips  quivered. 
Lying  back  there  in  the  chair,  she  seemed  like  a 
young,  supple,  newly-caged  panther,  enraged  and 
waiting  to  spring. 

"Yes,  allow,"  repeated  Reeves,  angrily;  "this  is 
my  house,  and  my  servants  shall  have  orders  about 
him  from  me,  that's  all." 

Paula  got  up  suddenly  from  her  chair.  She  was 
as  pale  as  the  stone  cast  itself  In  that  moment 
the    resolve  that   had  been  drifting  about   in   her 


PAULA  211 

mind,  half  formed  through  ten  long  months  of 
suffering,  crystallised  itself. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  she  said  to  Reeves,  with  a 
mocking  smile,  "you  may  give  whatever  orders  you 
like  to  your  servants ; "  and  she  crossed  the  room 
and  went  out  without  another  word,  and  before 
Reeves  had  the  thought  to  stop  her. 

She  went  upstairs,  every  limb  and  muscle  quiver- 
ing with  rage.  In  her  room  she  turned  on  the  light 
and  went  straight  to  the  armoire  and  got  out  a 
black  velvet  hat  and  jacket.  She  put  on  the 
jacket,  fastening  it  with  rapid  trembling  fingers, 
and  crossed  to  the  glass  to  put  on  her  hat.  She 
had  conscious  instincts  enough  left  to  make  her 
dress  well  and  carefully;  the  face  that  looked  back 
from  the  glass  was  whiter  than  ash  dust  and  ablaze 
with  excitement ;  never  had  it  looked  better ;  the 
pallor  and  the  brilliance  of  it  struck  her  even 
through  her  rage,  and  filled  her  with  a  sense  of 
pleasure  and  triumph.  She  set  the  hat  on  her  light 
curls  and  pushed  them  into  place  under  the  wide 
velvet  brim.  Then  she  opened  a  drawer  and  took 
out  gloves  and  a  dark  veil  and  a  jewel  box.  She 
unlocked  it,  and  counted  twenty  sovereigns  from 
a  bag  into  her  ordinary  leather  purse,  added  a  ten- 
pound  note,  and  then  relocked  the  box.  As  she 
did  so  her  eyes  fell  on  the  rings  that  sparkled  and 
flashed  all  over  the  smooth  white  fingers.  The 
plain  gold  band  of  her  wedding-ring  shone  amongst 
them.      She   clenched    her   teeth    hard  and  com- 


212  TAULA 

menced  to  tear  them  off.  When  she  had  slipped 
off  her  wedding-ring,  she  took  it  over  to  the  grate, 
and,  kneeling  down  on  the  hearth-rug,  held  the 
ring  firmly  in  her  left  hand,  finger  and  thumb  on 
its  edge,  and  lifted  the  heavy  brass  poker  with  the 
other.  One  blow  upon  it  and  the  circle  was  split, 
the  ring  lay  burst  into  its  flattened  halves  on  the 
rug.  The  accumulated  rage  and  hatred  of  many 
months,  the  long-controlled  misery  and  revolt  of 
all  her  married  life,  was  in  that  blow  :  it  only  took 
a  second  or  so.  She  picked  up  the  pieces  and  rose, 
took  up  a  small  handbag  that  contained  things  for 
her  toilet,  slipped  the  veil,  purse,  and  gloves  into  it, 
snapped  it,  and  turned  to  go.  Her  face  now  was 
cold  and  composed  as  a  stone  mask,  through  which 
were  looking  two  living  blazing  eyes.  She  walked 
downstairs  and  saw  their  room  door  open,  and  its 
light  poured  into  the  hall.  Reeves  came  up  to  it 
as  she  was  passing  by. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked,  with  a 
sudden  deadly  sinking  of  the  heart,  an  apprehen- 
sion, a  fear  of — he  could  not  tell  what.  The  light 
from  the  open  room  fell  full  upon  her.  Her  figure 
was  dilated  with  the  tumult  of  the  feelings  within 
her.  Reeves  stepped  back  involuntarily  before  the 
blinding  hate  in  her  face  and  eyes. 

"  I  am  going  out — never  to  come  back  again," 
she  said,  and  the  voice  lost  none  of  its  music  in  its 
accent  of  merciless  loathing. 

"  Paula,  listen,  darling- 


PAULA  213 

"You  fool,"  she  said,  half  mockingly;  and  the 
marvellously  expressive  face,  that  made  her  power 
on  the  stage,  showed  now  all  the  subtle  changes  of 
scorn  and  hate  and  derision  as  she  looked  back 
into  his.  A  sense  of  the  immense  value  she  was 
to  this  man  was  borne  in  upon  her.  She  read 
printed  on  his  face  even  now  the  wild  longing  to 
bridge  the  gulf  torn  open  between  them.  "  Search 
all  London  for  my  equal,  and  you  will  not  find  it." 

"  Paula,  wait  ;   I'll  do  anything— — " 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  do,"  returned  Paula, 
and  she  flung  the  whole  handful  of  rings  she 
had  brought  downstairs  at  his  feet.  They  rolled, 
glittering  and  sparkling,  flashing  with  a  thou- 
sand rays,  in  every  direction,  into  all  sorts  of 
corners,  over  the  white  Wilton  pile  carpet,  all  except 
the  smashed  wedding-ring  ;  that  could  not  roll, 
but  lay  in  its  two  shattered  fragments  where  she 
had  flung  it,  just  at  his  feet. 

Paula  went  on  downstairs  without  another  word, 
and  out.  Reeves,  rushing  after  her,  got  down  to 
the  hall  just  in  time  to  see  the  graceful  figure  in 
its  dark  clothes  getting  into  a  hansom.  The  next 
instant  she  was  gone. 

He  could  have  jumped  into  another  cab  and 
followed  her,  but  he  made  sure  she  was  going  to 
Vincent.  No  other  idea  flashed  upon  him;  that 
she  was  going  straight  to  him  was  the  one  thought 
that  possessed  him,  and  he  would  go  there  straight 
too.      Almost  as  white  as  she  had   been,  Reeves 


214  rAULA 

reascendcd  the  stairs,  cursing  Vincent  as  he  had 
never  cursed  any  one  in  his  life. 

"  Great  Northern  Hotel,"  Paula  said  to  the 
cabman,  and  sat  back  behind  the  glass  against 
which  the  snow  beat  furiously.  She  had  not  the 
faintest  thought  of  going  to  Vincent's  rooms 
openly  in  this  way,  to  throw  the  onus  of  the 
responsibility  upon  him  without  first  hearing  if 
he  were  prepared  for  it.  Reeves,  she  anticipated, 
would  follow  her,  and  then  to  take  him  to  the 
man  she  would  give  up  her  life  itself  to  shield 
from  pain  or  danger  was  a  plan  which  never  sug- 
gested itself  to  her,  just  as  no  plan  but  this  could 
force  itself  on  Reeves's  mind. 

Paula  meant  to  hide  herself  at  the  other  end  of 
London  and  summon  Vincent  to  her  there.  There 
he  could  come  without  danger  and  without  under- 
taking responsibility,  and  she  could  learn  his  wishes 
without  compromising  him.  "  Free,"  she  murmured 
to  herself  as  she  drove  on,  and  she  lay  back  against 
the  cab  cushions  with  a  delighted  quiver  of  the 
mouth  and  a  sudden  lighting  of  the  eyes. 

When  the  lights  of  the  Great  Northern  came  in 
view  she  could  hardly  see  them  for  the  blur  of  half- 
frozen  snow  on  the  windows  of  the  cab.  As  it 
stopped,  she  hastily  fastened  the  black  veil  round 
her  hat  and  let  the  glass  down.  She  paid  the 
cabman,  and  taking  her  handbag  herself  passed 
through  the  driving  snow  into  the  vestibule  of  the 
hotel.      It   was    very   crowded  :    the   eight   o'clock 


PAULA  215 

express  from  Burnley  had  just  come  in,  and 
passengers,  wrapped  up  to  the  eyes  and  laden 
with  more  or  less  snow-covered  packages,  were 
bustling  to  the  manager's  desk  or  giving  directions 
about  their  luggage  to  the  porters.  It  helped  her 
to  escape  notice,  which  was  her  object  just  then. 
Even  as  it  was  she  attracted  a  good  many  glances, 
and  as  she  stood  in  the  glaring  light  by  the  bureau, 
waiting  her  turn,  she  dreaded  at  each  minute  to  be 
recognised  and  addressed  by  name.  When  at 
length  she  could  get  up  to  the  wire  cage  behind 
which  the  manageress  was  sitting,  she  gave  the 
name  of  Mrs.  Johnson,  made  no  remark  as  to  the 
absence  of  luggage,  and  followed  the  waiter  upstairs, 
drawing  her  veil  a  little  more  closely  down  about 
her  chin,  and  devoutly  hoping  none  of  the  servants 
would  recognise  the  figure  they  had  perhaps  only 
the  night  before  yelled  and.  kicked  their  approval 
of  from  the  gallery  or  pit.  She  had  asked  for  a 
bedroom  and  private  sitting-room,  and  they  gave 
her  two  rooms  opening  one  into  the  other  on  the 
first  floor.  Hotel  rooms  are  generally  the  picture 
of  discomfort,  but  these  two  made  a  favourable 
exception,  they  were  well  furnished  and  well 
lighted.  Paula  ordered  a  fire  to  be  lit  and  a  cup 
of  coffee  brought  her,  and  flung  herself  into  an 
easy-chair,  while  the  waiter  pulled  down  the  blinds 
and  drew  the  heavy  curtains  to  shut  out  the  snow 
that  whirled  savagely  in  the  darkness  beyond. 
As    soon   as   the  fire   was   well    alight    and    the 


216  PAULA 

servants  gone,  she  took  up  a  telegraph-form  from 
a  side-table  and  addressed  it  to  Vincent.  Beneath 
she  wrote  : — "  Come  to  me,  if  you  possibly  can,  at 
once.  I  have  broken  with  R.  finally. — Paula, 
Room  21,  Mrs.  Johnson."  She  drank  the  coffee 
they  had  brought,  as  she  felt  chilled  with  the 
drive,  glanced  in  the  glass,  re-settled  her  veil, 
and  took  up  the  telegram.  All  the  evil  passions 
had  passed  from  her  face,  all  the  hardness  and 
mockery  had  disappeared,  and  the  sweetness  had 
come  back  to  it  at  the  thought  of  Vincent.  "  He 
will  tell  me  what  to  do,"  she  murmured  ;  and 
whatever  that  might  be  she  felt  she  would  do  it 
to  please  him. 

She  took  the  telegram  herself  into  the  station, 
and  sent  it  off;  then  she  stood  hesitating  for  a 
second  or  two  on  the  platform,  thinking  of  her 
now  ringlcss  third  finger,  and  finally  walked  into 
the  street  instead  of  back  to  the  hotel.  It  was 
snowing  heavily,  but  she  put  up  her  umbrella,  raised 
her  skirts  determinedly,  and  walked  on  fast  against 
the  wind.  Then  suddenly  she  remembered  it  was 
Sunday,  and  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders  at  her 
own  foolishness,  she  turned  back  to  the  hotel. 

As  soon  as  Reeves  had  got  into  his  fur  coat  and 
hat,  he  hurried  down  the  stairs  and  hailed  the  first 
crawling  hansom  that  passed  his  steps.  He  let 
down  the  glass  mechanically,  as  the  snow  blew  in 
stinging  his  face,  and  sat  glaring  through  it  with 
unseeing  eyes.     Deep  down  in  one  of  his  capacious 


PAULA  217 

fur  pockets,  where  he  had  thrust  his  hand,  he 
grasped  a  small,  cold  object,  and  his  fingers  met 
round  its  steel  muzzle.  He  did  not  know  himself 
what  his  intentions  were.  Had  his  life  depended 
on  it,  he  could  not  have  given  a  coherent  answer 
just  then.  His  brain  seemed  twirling  round,  as 
one  twirls  a  kaleidoscope  ;  and  now  one  picture, 
one  set  of  thoughts,  fitted  themselves  together, 
only  to  break  and  reform  into  another,  just  as  the 
glass  fragments  in  the  toy.  The  principal  feeling, 
perhaps,  within  him  was  a  hatred,  a  jealous  hatred, 
of  Vincent ;  the  picture  that  formed  itself  most 
constantly  was  a  portrait  of  him,  of  the  calm,  cold 
face  and  the  graceful  figure. 

This,  this,  then,  was  the  man  she  had  always 
loved  ;  this  the  chosen  one  out  of  the  crowd  that 
always  hung  about  her.  Why  should  he  be  the 
favoured  one  ?  this  man  who  was — was — and — 
and — he  stammered  in  his  thoughts  even.  What 
he  would  have  liked  to  say  would  have  been  a 
worthless,  ignorant,  hideous  blockhead,  and  instead 
Vincent's  image  forced  itself  between  his  thoughts, 
and  he  found  himself  repeating, — good-looking, 
good-looking,  and  gifted,  very  gifted.  This,  then, 
was  the  man  of  whom  she  had  murmured  that  one 
little  word  when  he  had  first  brought  her  to  con- 
sciousness on  their  wedding  night.  Her  lips  had 
been  locked  thereafter,  and  he  had  never  heard  it 
since,  and  he  had  tried  to  forget  it,  that  one  little 
endearing  pet   name.      Just   a   short   word,  but   it 


2iS  PAULA 

had  bitten  deeply  into  his  mind,  as  steel  into  flesh. 
He  had  cast  it  out  of  his  brain,  but  it  had  always 
crept  back  and  nestled  there  again,  like  an  adder 
with  its  tiny  barbed  tongue.  And  at  night  he  had 
lain  often  with  that  tongue  darting  into  him — 
"  Whom  do  I  belong  to,  eh  ?  into  whose  ear  and 
against  whose  neck  have  I  been  murmured  ?  Not 
yours,  eh?  not  yours?"  And  now  he  knew  to 
whom  those  sweet  lips  had  said  it.  He  muttered 
it  again  and  again,  and  each  time  his  fingers  closed 
nervously  on  the  revolver. 

In  this  frame  of  mind,  unreasoning  as  a  mad- 
dened animal,  he  jumped  out  almost  before  the 
cab  had  stopped  at  Vincent's  door,  pulled  violently 
at  the  bell  for  his  flat,  and  then  rushed  up  the 
stairs.  Vincent's  man-servant  let  him  in  at  the  flat 
door,  and  Reeves  strode  past  him  to  the  drawing- 
room  and  walked  in.  In  a  large  arm-chair  before 
the  fire  Vincent  sat  motionless,  reading.  A  large 
shaded  lamp  stood  just  behind  him,  and  at  his  side 
a  low  leather  table  covered  with  great  ponderous 
books  of  reference.  The  light  from  the  reading 
lamp  struck  across  his  pale  abstracted  face  and  his 
slight  white  hand  that  held  the  volume.  An  egg- 
shell china  cup  and  saucer  that  he  had  used  for  his 
coffee  stood  on  the  mantelpiece.  A  small  silent 
fire  burnt  at  his  feet.  At  the  far  end  of  the  room 
his  bedroom  doors  stood  wide  open.  Both  rooms 
were  well  lighted,  and  a  dead  silence  reigned,  only 
broken  by  the  steady  muffled  ticking  of  the  large 


PAULA  219 

clock  on  the  mantelpiece.  Into  this  quiet  atmo- 
sphere of  study  Reeves  came  impetuously,  blazing 
with  the  tumult  of  passions  fighting  within  him, 
and  paused  suddenly  on  the  threshold.  Instinctively 
he  felt  she  was  not  here.  Had  she  even  passed 
through  these  rooms,  that  faint  delicate  scent,  a 
subtle,  barely  perceptible  perfume  like  the  breath 
of  roses,  that  always  hovered  over  her,  would  have 
betrayed  her :  there  had  been  no  warring  of 
emotions  in  this  room,  the  very  air  seemed  cold 
and  quiet  as  in  a  cloister.  The  young  fellow 
looked  round  as  his  visitor  entered. 

"  Oh,  Reeves,"  he  said  quietly,  "  is  that  you  ? 
Come  and  sit  down."  He  closed  the  book  and  laid 
it  with  the  others  on  the  table,  and  then  let  his 
hands  rest  idly  on  his  chair  arms,  as  he  looked  up 
and  watched  the  other  stride  heavily  up  to  the 
hearth.  Reeves  stood  looking  savagely  about  the 
rooms  for  a  few  seconds,  utterly  confused  by  the 
difference  of  this  scene  from  what  he  had  pictured; 
then  feeling  he  must  speak,  and  unable  to  say  any- 
thing but  that  which  was  seething  in  his  mind,  he 
stammered  out — 

"  Isn't  Paula  here  ?     I   ...  I  thought  she  was." 

"  Paula?"  repeated  Vincent  in  unfeigned  surprise, 
but  immediately  getting  on  his  guard.  "  No.  Did 
you  ask  her  to  come  for  anything  ?  " 

Reeves  laughed,  a  short,  cynical  laugh,  and  looked 
down  ironically  at  the  figure  in  the  chair.  Vincent 
met  his  gaze  with  one  of  cold,  steady  inquiry. 


220  PAULA 

"  I  should  be  likely  to  do  that,  now,  knowing 
what  I  know.  So  you're  the  man  she  loves ! "  he 
added,  the  rage  with  which  he  had  come  bursting 
out  again  after  its  momentary  check.  "  Well,  I've 
often  wanted  to  see  the  man  Paula  could  love,  and 
I'm  much  gratified." 

Vincent,  inwardly  confused  and  dismayed, 
alarmed  too  for  the  girl,  and  much  distressed, 
did  not  let  a  trace  of  any  emotion  show  in  his  face 
beyond  an  extreme  surprise.  "  Isn't  this  all  rather 
wild  ?  "  he  said  quietly.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Reeves  stood  on  the  rug,  his  face  changing 
colour  momentarily,  his  right  hand  pulling  con- 
vulsively at  something  in  his  pocket,  which  he 
dragged  up  and  thrust  back  unconsciously  in  his 
excitement.  Vincent  had  not  altered  his  position; 
he  leaned  back,  almost  lying  rather  than  sitting  in 
his  chair,  his  legs  crossed,  one  arm  outstretched 
along  the  chair  arm,  and  the  other  hand  raised 
now  towards  his  forehead,  while  his  elbow  leaned 
upon  the  table.  He  watched  Reeves  and  the 
action,  the  meaning  of  which  he  knew  so  well, 
with  faint  amusement.  Reeves  looked  at  him, 
too  ;  and,  even  blind  as  he  was  with  jealous  rage, 
he  did  justice  at  that  moment  to  the  charm  that 
there  wras  in  the  easy  attitude,  the  quiet  voice,  the 
extreme  composure.  "  It's  the  same  thing,"  he 
muttered,  half  to  himself,  half  aloud,  "whether 
she's  here  or  not :  you're  the  cause  of  it  all." 

"  I  wish  you'd  speak  out,"  said  Vincent,  with  a 


PAULA  221 

touch  of  irritation.     "  It's   childish  to   go   on   like 
this.     What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  The  matter  !"  said  Reeves.  "The  matter  is  that 
Paula  has  gone  from  me:  smashed  up  her  wedding 
ring,  and  said  she's  never  coming  back,  because  I 
objected  to  her  standing  with  her  arms  round  your 
marble  head,  kissing  it." 

Vincent  paled  slightly.  Why  would  she  be  so 
reckless  and  so  rash?  he  asked  himself  in  dismay. 
How  could  he  best  protect  her  from  herself?  And 
what  did  it  all  mean  ?  Had  she  done  it  in  open 
defiance  of  Reeves,  or  had  he  found  her  acci- 
dentally ? 

"  But  probably  this  is  only  some  freak  of  hers," 
he  said  aloud,  with  a  quiet  smile  ;  "you  know  how 
extraordinary  she  is.  As  for  me,  you  can  see  for 
yourself  she's  not  come  here." 

"  What  does  all  this  damned  foolery  of  kissing 
mean,  then  ?  "  muttered  Reeves.  "  Are  you  her 
lover?"  he  demanded  furiously,  turning  on  Vincent 
suddenly. 

Vincent  felt  strongly  inclined  to  kick  him  out  of 
the  place,  but  thinking  still  of  Paula's  interests,  he 
restrained  himself.  "  No,"  he  said,  emphatically 
and  savagely.  Then  he  added  with  his  former 
calm,  "  That  sort  of  thing,  with  her,  means  nothing. 
She  admires  that  cast  for  its  workmanship,  and 
might  just  as  probably  have  kissed  it  had  it  been 
any  one  else's." 

Reeves  hesitated.      It  was  true  that  you  could 


222  PAULA 

not  judge  of  Paula  quite  as  an  ordinary  woman. 
The  artist  in  her  gave  her  a  double  life  and 
character ;  he  knew  that  but  too  well,  and  he 
really  had  no  proof  against  this  man.  Had  that 
little  word  that  stung  his  memory  been  Vincent, 
then  he  should  have  been  sure;  but  it  was  not,  it 
was  just  a  pet  name,  of  which  the  original  might 
be  Dick  for  that  matter,  or  anything  else.  Well,  he 
would  make  a  guess,  and  he  pronounced  it  suddenly 
out  loud.  The  word  rang  through  Vincent's  ears 
and  stirred  echoes  in  his  startled  brain.  It  was 
like  a  drop  of  molten  lead  dropped  upon  him,  but 
under  Reeves's  eyes  his  face  remained  as  iron. 
There  was  not  a  quiver,  not  a  movement,  not  one 
faintest  indication  of  the  shock  that  went  through 
him.  He  saw  the  other's  device,  and  defeated  it 
absolutely. 

"  Is  that  what  she  calls  you  ?  "  he  said  sym- 
pathetically ;  and  Reeves,  nearly  but  not  quite 
thrown  off  the  track  of  his  suspicions,  mumbled 
something  unintelligible. 

He  half  turned  towards  the  door;  then  he  came 
back  and  drew  the  pistol  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
held  it  close  to  Vincent's  face.  "  Do  you  see  that  ?  " 
he  said  grimly. 

"Yes,  and  it's  not  the  first  I've  seen,"  returned 
Vincent,  dryly,  without  moving. 

"  Well,  if  I  find  she's  with  you  at  any  time, 
I'll  put  a  bullet  into  your  head,  though  I  have  to 
follow  you  all  over  the  world  to  do  it." 


PAULA  223 

At  the  last  word  Vincent  leapt  to  his  feet,  knock- 
ing the  pistol  contemptuously  aside  with  his  hand. 
His  anger,  which  had  been  growing  and  accumu- 
lating throughout  the  whole  interview  under  his 
quiet  manner,  was  thoroughly  alight  now. 

"  How  dare  you  come  disturbing  me  and 
threatening  me  in  my  own  rooms  ?  "  he  said,  as 
he  faced  the  other  man  with  his  eyes  blazing  and 
his  voice  vibrating  with  anger.  "  Go  out  of  them 
this  instant,  or  I'll  have  you  turned  out." 

Vincent's  anger,  like  that  of  most  people  who 
are  ordinarily  extremely  amiable  and  conciliatory, 
was  particularly  unpleasant  to  face.  Reeves  shrank 
before  him  now  involuntarily  just  as  his  clerks 
had  done  formerly  in  similar  moments,  and  feeling 
suddenly  he  had  made  an  ass  of  himself,  accused 
the  wrong  man,  and  insulted  his  best  friend  for 
nothing,  he  mumbled  some  half  apology,  and 
hastily  shuffled  to  the  door. 

Vincent  heard  his  steps  pass  across  the  hall  and 
the  flat  door  shut,  and  paced  excitedly  up  and 
down  his  own  rooms  for  a  few  minutes,  his  muscles 
quivering  still  with  anger,  and  the  pulses  in  his 
temples  beating.  He  was  not  particularly  strong 
at  that  time,  and  the  highly-strung,  nervous  tempera- 
ment he  possessed  he  tried  still  further  by  constant 
worry,  hard  work,  study,  and  late  hours.  His  heart 
beat  violently  as  he  walked  backwards  and  forwards. 
He  felt  a  sense  of  illness  and  annoyance  that  he 
could  not  get  back  his  calm  immediately. 


224  PAULA 

What  was  all  this  about  Paula  ?  he  asked  him- 
self. And — with  sudden  fear — where  had  she  gone 
if  not    come   to   him?     Had    she — had    she ? 


and  he  paused  in  his  walk  as  the  awful  thought 
struck  him.  Had  she,  in  a  moment  of  despair,  fled 
to  death?  and  to  death  rather  than  him?  because 
he  had  repulsed  her,  urged  her  to  continue  to  do 
her  duty  ?  and  if  it  had  been  too  hard  !  poor  little 
girl !  The  threats  to  himself  he  never  gave  one 
passing  thought  to.  The  visit  of  Reeves  had  had 
just  the  reverse  of  a  deterrent  effect.  Before  that 
he  might  still  have  hesitated,  now  he  should 
hesitate  no  longer.  If  Paula  begged  him  to  come 
to  her  he  would  go. 

In  Vincent's  whole  organisation  there  was  not  a 
single  strand  of  cowardice  ;  but  there  were  many 
strands  of  obstinacy,  and  the  thought  that  another 
stood  with  threats  between  him  and  any  object 
would  simply  make  him  doubly  determined  to 
gain  it.  He  was  still  pacing  up  and  down,  when 
the  double  knock  of  a  telegraph  boy  came  sharply 
upon  his  door.  It  echoed  through  the  Sunday 
stillness  that  reigned  over  the  flat.  Vincent  stood 
still  with  his  heart  beating.  From  her  or  of 
her  ?  he  asked  himself  wildly,  and  years  seemed  to 
elapse  as  he  stood  listening  to  the  measured  step  of 
his  servant  go  to  the  door  and  then  return.  He  took 
the  telegram  from  the  man  in  silence,  and  glanced 
through  it.  "  There's  no  answer,"  he  said  quietly, 
looking  up,  and  the  man  withdrew.     Vincent  gave 


PAULA  225 

a  deep  sigh  of  relief  as  he  folded  up  the  telegram 
and  thrust  it  into  his  breast  pocket.  After  the 
visions  of  death  and  horror  that  had  been  passing 
through  his  mind,  these  few  words  telling  him  she 
was  close  to  him,  alive,  waiting  for  him,  stirred  a 
joyous  revulsion  of  feeling.  A  rush  of  new  love 
and  tenderness  ran  through  him,  and  he  gave  it 
rein  for  the  first  time  through  months  of  systematic 
repression.  She  was  free  now ;  then  so  was  he. 
The  current  ran  quick  in  his  veins,  the  warm  colour 
tinged  his  cheeks.  "  Fortunate  it  did  not  come 
half-an-hour  earlier,"  he  thought  grimly,  with  a 
smile,  as  he  went  into  the  adjoining  room.  "  She 
is  so  reckless,  her  not  coming  straight  here  to  me 
was  a  marvellous  piece  of  prudence  for  her." 

He  drew  on  his  overcoat  and  folded  the  white 
silk  handkerchief  round  his  neck.  His  movements 
were  quiet,  unhurried.  It  was  just  his  dinner-hour, 
and  a  casual  observer  would  have  thought  he  was 
going  round  to  his  club  for  it,  as  usual  ;  but  the 
eyes  in  the  glass  had  a  warm  glow  in  them  as  he 
settled  his  hat  on  his  forehead,  and  there  was  a 
smile  upon  his  lips  as  he  pulled  out  his  gloves  from 
a  drawer  and  put  them  on.  His  heart  beat  hard 
with  pleasure  at  the  thought  of  the  woman  he  was 
going  to.  The  insult  of  Reeves's  visit,  and  his 
threat,  gave  an  added  zest  to  the  position,  and  the 
image  of  the  man  who  owned  her  standing  between 
himself  and  Paula  with  his  loaded  pistol,  filled  him 
with  cool  amusement. 

15 


226  PAULA 

Very  rarely  indeed  did  anybody  prevent  Vincent 
from  obtaining  any  object  he  had  set  his  heart 
upon  ;  and  now,  after  some  experience  of  this,  it 
amused  him  to  watch  the  attempt.  His  control 
over  himself,  and  the  quiet  tenacity  of  his  desire, 
generally  brought  its  fulfilment  in  the  end,  in  the 
face  of  all  obstacles.  The  fact  that  however  strong 
his  desire  might  be,  his  command  over  it  was 
stronger,  and  the  power  he  possessed  of  hiding  it 
deep  down  beneath  an  unmoved  exterior,  were 
the  chief  sources  of  his  success.  And  here  not 
the  least  pang  of  conscience  troubled  him  with 
reference  to  the  other  man.  Reeves  would  reap 
the  just  result  of  his  own  disgraceful,  dishonourable 
bargain.  To  Vincent  the  contract  had  always  been 
repellent,  abhorrent,  vile  beyond  words. 

For  a  man  to  trade  with  a  woman  for  herself, 
to  use  her  natural  love  for  her  gifts  and  all  her  joy 
in  them  as  a  lever  to  force  her  to  his  own  desires, 
to  act  the  meanness  of  Jacob  and  Esau  over  again 
with  a  girl  in  the  first  morning  of  life,  and  deprive 
her  for  ever  afterwards  of  her  birthright  to  give 
herself  where  she  would,  seemed  to  him  inex- 
pressibly revolting.  All  this  time  he  had  held 
himself  in  check  for  her:  if  she  could  accept  her 
life,  good;  he  would  try  to  make  easier  for  her 
the  path  she  wished  to  walk.  But  now  there  was 
no  consideration  to  hold  him,  and  he  felt  he  was 
robbing  no  one.  Reeves  had  robbed  him,  and  now 
he  was  taking  back  his  own. 


PAULA  227 

He  was  quite  ready,  and  just  leaving  the  room, 
when  a  thought  struck  him,  and  he  turned  back  to 
his  dressing-table.     "  Since  he's  so  fond  of  them," 
he  thought,  with  a  smile,  and  took  a  small  revolver 
from  the  drawer — one  which  had  been  his  constant 
companion  in  Australia.     He  glanced  over  it  now, 
saw  it  was  fully  loaded,   and   slipped  it  into  his 
pocket.     Five  minutes  later  he  was  stepping  from 
the    snowy   pavement    into    a   hansom.      "  Great 
Northern,"  he  said,  through  the  trap.     He  supposed 
from  her  wire  that  Paula  was  Mrs.  Johnson  at  the 
hotel,  and  he  meant  if  he  were  asked  for  his  name 
to  give  Mr.  Johnson,  but,  according  to  his  general 
rule,  he  should  not  volunteer  any  information.     He 
meant  to  walk  into  the  hotel  and  straight  on  to  her 
room,  not  stopping  en  route,  unless  he  were  stopped. 
His  principle  was,  "  Take  everything  you  want  for 
granted  in  this  life,"  and  those  around  you  generally 
take  it  for  granted  too.     At  the  hotel  when  he 
arrived  there  was  still  a  large  number  of  passengers 
round  the  bureau  and  in  the  passages.     He  passed 
through  them  as  if  with  a  definite  purpose  to  the 
stairs.     At   the   head   of  the  first  flight  a  room- 
waiter  met  him  and  asked  him  what  number  he 
could  direct  him  to. 

"  Twenty-one,"  replied  Vincent  promptly,  and 
the  man,  recognising  it  was  the  number  of  a  private 
sitting-room,  bowed  and  passed  on  with  a  respect- 
ful "  Straight  on,  sir,  on  the  right." 

Vincent  went  down  the  corridor,  his  heart  beat- 


228  PAULA 

ing,  his  whole  frame  thrilled  through  with  longing, 
love,  and  pleasure.  The  door  of  21  stood  just  ajar. 
Vincent  tapped  slightly  and  then  pushed  it  open. 
Paula  was  not  visible.  The  room  might  have  been 
occupied  some  weeks  from  its  appearance.  A 
carefully  made-up  fire  blazed  in  the  grate,  and 
flung  its  light  all  over  the  room — a  red  light  that 
danced  over  the  table,  ready  laid  for  dinner,  spark- 
ling on  the  white  damask  and  silver,  and  amongst 
the  red  and  white  wine-glasses.  His  own  portrait 
faced  him  from  the  mantelpiece,  where  it  stood  in 
the  centre  in  its  frame,  very  much  en  evidence,  and 
her  own  little  clock  was  beside  it.  The  couch  was 
drawn  close  to  the  fire,  and  her  velvet  jacket  lay 
tossed  among  the  cushions.  On  this  couch,  which 
faced  the  folding  doors  into  the  next  room,  Vincent 
sat  down,  and  his  hand  fell  upon  her  cloak  beside 
him ;  the  velvet  felt  warm  to  his  hand,  half  frozen 
by  the  outer  air. 

He  watched  the  door,  and  in  a  few  seconds  it 
opened.  Paula  came  through  the  door  from  the 
darkness  behind  her,  and  with  one  little,  glad,  in- 
articulate cry  ran  towards  him.  It  thrilled  through 
the  man  who  heard  it,  just  as  their  first  kiss  had 
thrilled  him.  That  had  been  nature  awakened  ; 
this  was  nature  satisfied.  Relief,  infinite  confi- 
dence, and  pleasure  spoke  in  it.  He  felt  the 
influence  he  possessed  over  her  as  he  had  never 
done  yet,  realised  the  absolute  completeness  of  her 
love  for  him.     There  was  no  questioning  now  as 


PAULA  229 

she  met  him,  no  hesitation,  no  asking  for  forgive- 
ness. She  had  found  herself,  felt  sure  of  herself 
at  last. 

"  Vincent,"  she  said,  pressing  his  hand  and 
drawing  him  down  beside  her,  as  she  took  her  seat 
on  the  sofa,  "  I  am  free.  I  shall  never  go  back  to 
him — never.  I  can't  stand  it.  1  feel  mad  with 
the  happiness  of  being  free  again."  She  crossed 
her  hands  behind  her  head,  and  leant  back  in  the 
corner  of  the  couch.  Her  lips  and  cheeks  were 
brilliant,  her  eyes  overflowing  with  light  and 
sparkling  with  smiles. 

To  Vincent  her  unquestioned  freedom  was  not 
so  obvious.  To  him  the  path  before  them  seemed 
set  with  infinite  difficulties  for  them  both.  But  to 
Paula,  when  under  the  influence  of  any  of  her  keen 
desires,  all  obstacles  in  the  road  to  them  seemed  to 
dwindle  into  nothing.  Almost  as  a  somnambulist 
she  walked  straight  towards  them  and  amongst 
them,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  given  point  before 
her,  and  blind  to  all  else,  and  deaf  to  all  warnings. 
It  was  not  exactly  her  fault.  It  was  the  outcome 
of  the  innate  recklessness  of  her  character.  She 
was  simply  incapable  of  giving  to  anything  that 
stood  between  her  and  her  wishes  its  due  import- 
ance. It  seemed  as  if  the  magnitude  of  the  desire 
itself  dwarfed  everything  temporarily  to  her  eyes. 
As  she  had  heedlessly,  almost  unthinkingly,  sold 
herself  for  her  art,  without  fully  realising  the 
importance  of  the  act,  so  now  it  seemed  genuinely, 


230  PAULA 

perfectly  simple  to  her  to  cast  aside  her  obligations 
when  she  had  once  actually  determined  that  she 
would.  Unfortunately,  an  agreement  signed  with 
Fate  is  generally  pigeon-holed  against  us  for  life. 

"Well,  why  are  you  so  silent?"  she  asked,  rais- 
ing her  eyebrows.  "  See,  dearest,  I've  done  nothing 
to  involve  you  in  the  matter  at  all.     I've  made  up 

my  mind  to  leave  Reeves,  that's  all ;  but  if — if 

Well,  I  shall  go  down  into  the  country,  to  live 
quietly  by  myself,  quite  alone.  My  leaving  him 
need  not  affect  you  at  all,  unless  you  wish." 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  will  do  that,"  said  Vincent, 
suddenly  turning  to  her;  and  then  he  added  with 
an  extreme  gravity,  "  I  hope  you  won't  attempt 
any  more  impossible  things.  Haven't  we  suffered 
enough?  " 

Paula's  eyes  filled.  "  I  will  do  exactly  what  you 
tell  me,"  she  murmured  submissively;  and  Vincent 
felt  it  was  impossible  to  moralise  with  her. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  Reeves  will  do  ? "  he 
said,  after  a  minute. 

"  Get  a  divorce,  I  suppose,"  returned  Paula 
lightly ;  "  I  don't  care  a  hang  what  he  does." 

Vincent  was  silent.  He  saw  that  no  suspicion 
of  her  husband  following  and  attacking  himself 
occurred  to  her.  Instinctively  he  felt  the  slightest 
hint  of  this  would  terrify  Paula  and  make  her  deny 
him  possession  of  herself  "  Let's  hope  he  will,"  he 
said  merely,  enjoying  her  proximity  now,  and 
feeling  the  pleasure  made  keener  by  the  sense  that 


PAULA  231 

he  might  pay  for  these  moments  with  his  life. 
"  Then  in  six  months  you  will  be  my  wife  ;  will 
you  like  that?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  murmured. 

"  And  your  work  !  Are  you  content  to  leave  it 
all?  Remember  how  much  you  wanted  a  name 
once ! 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  returned  Paula.  "  I  was  great, 
in  a  way,  with  Reeves.  With  you  I  shall  be  happy, 
which  I  have  found  out  to  be  much  better." 

A  discreet  cough  and  tap  came  outside,  and 
Paula  sprang  up,  with  a  smile,  and  crossed  to  the 
chair  by  the  fire  opposite  him.  "  Yes,  you  can 
serve  dinner,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  the  waiter  ; 
and  he  brought  in  the  soup. 

"  Our  first  dinner  together,"  Vincent  murmured, 
with  a  smile,  as  they  drew  up  their  chairs.  She 
was  so  light-hearted,  so  untroubled,  that  she  seemed 
to  him  more  like  his  innocent  bride  than  a  woman 
whom  the  world  would  hold  guilty,  and  the  law 
declare  bound  to  another. 

Paula  was  absolutely  without  a  sense  of  guilt, 
and  therefore  felt  no  self-reproach  and  no  fear. 
She  had  never  regarded  herself  as  the  wife  of 
Reeves,  never  looked  upon  the  marriage  with  him 
as  anything  but  a  harsh  contract,  entered  into  for 
the  sake  of  her  art,  and  of  which  she  had  not  under- 
stood the  terms.  To  her  view,  that  recognised  only 
the  moral  and  never  the  conventional  aspect  of 
things,  there  could  be  no  infidelity  where  there  had 


232  PAULA 

never  been  love.  If  she  chose  to  resign  her  art  and 
the  contract  made  for  it  alone,  she  seemed  to  her- 
self free  to  do  so. 

When  the  waiter  had  been  dismissed,  Paula 
filled  Vincent's  glass  as  well  as  her  own.  "  I 
haven't  been  drinking  wine  this  last  week,"  he 
said,  with  smiling  disapproval,  "  and  I  am  certainly 
in  no  need  of  any  this  evening." 

"  Oh,  you  must,"  laughed  Paula  ;  "  I  wish  it.  I 
can't  understand  any  one  not  drinking  wine,  except 
for  economy,"  she  added,  lifting  her  own  glass  and 
looking  at  him  over  it  with  the  amber  light  of  the 
sparkling  liquid  reflected  in  her  smiling  eyes. 

"  The  only  motive  that  doesn't  move  me," 
answered  Vincent,  laughing,  and  watching  her 
drink  with  pleased  eyes.  "If  I  couldn't  afford  it, 
I  suppose  I  should  do  it."  He  kissed  the  sweet 
little  hand  that  carried  the  empty  glass  back  to  the 
table,  and  took  it  from  her  and  put  his  own  un- 
touched one  by  her  plate. 

"  Oh,  do  drink  it,  Vincent." 

"  I'd  rather  not." 

"You  make  it  like  a  temperance  meeting,"  com- 
plained Paula,  and  Vincent  yielded,  as  usual  with 
her,  to  her  caprice,  and  drank  the  wine  with  a 
smile,  knowing  it  would  bring  its  customary  pain 
across  his  eyebrows. 

"  Now  are  you  satisfied  ?  "  he  said,  laughing. 
•     "Quite,"  returned  Paula,  looking  at  him  with  a 
passion   of  appreciation   that  startled   him.     This 


PAULA  233 

delightful  weakness  of  his  made  his  strength  to 
her.  The  yielding  up  of  his  will,  to  the  outside 
world  so  unbending,  into  her  hands,  appealed  to 
her  vain  and  imperious  nature ;  appealed,  too,  to 
its  generous,  tender  instincts.  By  it  he  subdued 
her,  chained  her  to  himself,  and  endeared  himself 
to  her,  to  an  extent  he  himself  never  realised. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  asked  you,"  she  said,  penitently 
and  impulsively.     "  Will  it  hurt  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  the  consequences  will  be  very 
serious  or  desperate,"  he  answered,  laughing.  "  In 
any  case,  the  fatal  act  is  accomplished,"  he  added, 
jestingly.  "  Don't  let  your  dinner  get  cold  ;  let 
me  give  you  the  other  wing." 

Paula  still  looked  at  him  anxiously,  but  the 
immediate  effect  was  only  for  good  ;  a  light  colour 
came  into  his  face  and  suffused  the  pale,  well- 
carved,  handsome  lips  that  were  so  much — too 
much — like  a  statue's.  As  the  dinner  went  on  and 
they  talked  and  laughed  together,  it  seemed  to  her 
nothing  had  intervened  between  them  since  they 
had  sat  in  her  little  room  at  Lisle  Street  on  the 
first  evening  they  had  met  and  jested  as  to  the  ten 
commandments  across  their  teacups. 

After  dinner,  when  the  waiter  had  left  them, 
after  setting  their  coffee  on  the  table,  Vincent  drew 
her  to  him.  She  came  over  to  the  hearth  and  sat 
down  on  the  rug  before  the  fire  at  his  feet,  and 
leant  her  head  back  on  his  knees. 

"  Give  mc  your  signet  ring  to  wear,  will  you  ?  " 


234  PAULA 

she  said,  holding  up  her  ringless  hands  ;  "  I  can 
turn  its  crest  into  the  palm  and  make  it  look  like 
a  wedding-ring." 

"  I  will  bring  you  one  to-morrow,"  Vincent 
answered,  slipping  off  his  ring  from  his  little 
finger  and  putting  it  on  to  her  hand,  so  that  its 
carved  amethyst  faced  the  palm.  They  began 
to  talk  of  their  plans.  Vincent  leant  strongly  to 
their  starting  on  the  following  day  for  Plymouth, 
and  taking  the  first  boat  to  Australia.  Paula 
combated  the  idea. 

"  Oh  no,  Vincent ;  you  say  you  are  a  bad  sailor, 
and  you  will  be  ill  and  wretched  all  the  time :  it 
is  such  a  pity  to  begin  our  life  together  like  that. 
Let's  go  overland  to  Marseilles,  and  cross  into  Egypt 
from  there.  Think  what  weather  this  is  to  start 
from  Plymouth  in." 

Vincent  was  silent,  gazing  at  the  white  upturned 
throat. 

"  Vincent ! " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  have  said  what  I  think,  darling." 

"  But  I'd  much  rather  go  via  Marseilles." 

"  Then  we  will  go  that  way,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"  It  won't  make  much  difference,  will  it?" 

"  Possibly  none.  I  could  not  say.  Anyway  we 
will  chance  it." 

The  officious  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  struck  ten. 
They  both  listened  to  the  ten  strokes  that  seemed 


PAULA  235 

to  jar  on  the  warm  stillness  and  soft  red  light  of 
the  room.     Vincent  looked  at  her. 

"  I  must  go,  darling,"  he  said,  rising  ;  "  look  at 
the  time." 

Paula  rose  too,  and  stood  for  a  second,  and  then, 
as  at  their  first  kiss,  their  very  first,  long  before,  she 
found  herself  almost  unconsciously  drawn  within 
his  arms,  in  that  soft,  irresistible  embrace. 

"  Shall  I  stay  ?  "  he  murmured. 


XI 


The  next  morning,  very  early  for  him — between 
seven  and  eight — Vincent  left  the  Great  Northern 
and  took  a  hansom  back,  through  an  icy,  yellow 
fog,  to  his  rooms.  The  dark,  heavy  atmosphere 
lay  like  a  wet  blanket  round  him,  and  seemed  to 
correspond  to  the  weight  of  responsibility  he  felt 
he  had  taken  up  since  last  night.  He  pushed  the 
silk  muffler  higher  round  his  throat,  and  fastened 
the  overcoat  across  his  breast.  Even  then  he 
coughed  a  little,  and  his  face  looked  grey,  tired, 
and  worn  in  the  cheerless  light.  Not  that  he 
regretted  a  single  moment  in  the  past  twelve 
hours  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  felt  a  deep  content 
and  quiet  satisfaction.  Reeves  was  scored  off,  and 
his  own  property  his  again  ;  but  there  was  much 
to  be  thought  out,  much  to  arrange,  and  a  deep 
anxiety  to  shield  the  girl  from  all  danger  and  from 
all  painful  consequences  weighed  upon  him. 

When  he  reached  his  rooms,  he  rang  to  have 
his  fire  lighted,  and  while  this  was  being  done,  he 
changed  from  his  dress  clothes  into  his  dressing- 

236 


PAULA  237 

gown  and  slippers.  When  he  reappeared,  the 
room  was  empty  and  the  fire  burning  brilliantly. 
Vincent  drew  the  couch  towards  the  grate  and 
threw  himself  upon  it  with  a  sense  of  extreme 
exhaustion.  In  a  few  seconds  he  was  asleep,  too 
tired  to  think  things  out  further.  When  he  next 
opened  his  eyes  his  breakfast  stood  waiting  for 
him  on  the  table,  and  a  letter  in  the  plate. 
Vincent  roused  himself,  sat  up,  and  took  the 
letter.  It  was  from  Reeves — an  apology  for  the 
previous  night's  interview,  a  retraction  of  all  sus- 
picion, and  a  hope  their  lengthy  friendship  would 
not  be  broken.  An  ironical  smile  passed  over  the 
face  of  the  man  reading  it.  There  was  something 
amusing  in  being  apologised  to  at  that  moment  by 
Paula's  husband. 

He  sat  for  a  long  time  gazing  down  absently 
on  the  paper  in  his  hand,  thinking  over  his  own 
course  of  action.  Would  it  be  more  convenient 
to  himself,  he  was  thinking,  to  refuse  to  accept 
Reeves's  apologies,  and  make  last  night's  scene, 
as  he  well  could  do  now,  the  excuse  for  a  break 
with  him ;  or  to  maintain  a  nominal  friendship 
with  him  for  the  present?  In  the  first  case,  if  he 
broke  with  him,  he  would  be  spared  all  observa- 
tion and  all  comment  upon  his  own  actions,  but 
at  the  same  time  he  should  then  lose  sight  of 
Reeves's  movements  and  intentions;  whereas  in  the 
second  case,  under  cover  of  their  acquaintanceship, 
he  could   make  Reeves  supply  him  with  detailed 


238  PAULA 

information.  In  the  one  case  he  would  see  the 
enemy's  maps,  and  have  to  make  pretence  of  dis- 
playing his  own  ;  in  the  other  he  would  see  none, 
and  show  none.  He  thought  he  preferred  the 
former.  It  was  the  method  where  more  diplomacy 
and  skill  were  required  ;  but,  on  the  whole,  he 
thought  it  safer,  if  well  worked.  He  crossed  to  his 
writing-table  and  wrote  a  few  rapid  lines,  asking 
if  Reeves  had  heard  anything  of  Paula,  and  offering 
his  assistance  if  Reeves  required  it.  He  despatched 
this,  and  then  sat  down  to  his  breakfast.  He  did 
not  know  now  if  it  were  the  best  thing  to  have 
done  ;  it  would  be  a  great  nuisance  to  have  Reeves 
coming  in  and  out  and  hanging  about  just  then, 
when  he  was  making  his  preparations  for  his  and 
Paula's  leaving :  at  the  same  time  it  would  be 
simply  invaluable  to  them  to  know  where  Reeves 
might  be,  and  in  what  occupation,  at  any  given 
time. 

He  had  hardly  finished  his  breakfast  and  flung 
himself  upon  the  couch,  when  he  heard  a  knock  on 
the  outside  door  ;  it  was  familiar,  and  he  wondered 
for  a  second  whose  it  was,  then  his  sitting-room 
door  opened  and  Paula's  brother  came  in.  Vincent 
started  a  little  at  his  unexpected  entry,  and  he 
only  had  a  few  seconds  to  decide  how  to  meet  the 
questions  he  had  doubtless  come  to  ask.  Should 
he  take  him  into  their  confidence?  He  hesitated  ; 
his  life-long  habit  was  reserve.  The  less  people, 
even  among  your  friends,  know  your  plans,  the 


PAULA  239 

smoother  they  work.  But  with  Paula's  brother  it 
was  different.  There  was  little  danger  of  his  be- 
traying them  through  stupidity.  One  glance  at 
his  face  decided  Vincent.  How  like  he  was  to 
her ;  he  seemed  more  like  her  than  ever  this 
morning,  and  the  same  alert  intelligence  looked 
out  of  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Vincent,"  he  exclaimed,  crossing  the  room 
to  the  couch  and  sitting  down  by  it,  "  what  is  all 
this  about  Paula?  What  does  it  mean?  Reeves 
came  to  me  last  night,  and  told  me  she'd  gone.  Of 
course  I  thought  it  was  to  you,  and  said  nothing; 
but  then  he  assured  me  he'd  been  to  you,  and  you 
knew  nothing  about  it.  But  surely  you  do  know 
something  of  it,  don't  you?"  he  said,  fixing  his 
eyes  on  Vincent's  face. 

Vincent  did  not  answer  immediately.  There 
was  silence,  and  in  the  grey  morning  light  between 
them  the  two  men  looked  at  each  other. 

"  If  you  don't,"  he  broke  out  passionately  after  a 
minute,  "  she  is  dead — she  has  done  it.  She  has 
often  threatened  to — often,"  and  Vincent  saw  him 
grow  white  to  his  quivering  lips. 

"  No,"  he  said,  very  gently,  in  the  tone 
which  he  generally  used  only  to  her ;  "  no,  she 
is  alive." 

"  Then  you  do  know  !  Where  is  she  ?  Where 
was  she  last  night  ?  " 

"  With  me,"  Vincent  replied,  quietly  meeting  the 
other's  eyes  fully;  then,  with  the  faintest  shadow 


240  PAULA 

of  a  smile,  he  extended  his  hand  from  the  couch 
towards  him.     "  Do  you  condemn  us,  Charlie  ?  " 

A  hot,  red  flush  went  in  a  sudden  wave  over  the 
other's  face,  and  he  seized  the  outstretched  hand 
in  both  his  own.  "  No,  no,  no;  you  know  I  don't," 
he  said  impulsively.  "  It  was  all  a  wretched,  miser- 
able mistake;  she  ought  never  to  have  married 
Reeves.  She  has  suffered  dreadfully.  You  have 
been  away;  you  don't  know  what  it  has  been  to 
see  her,  to  watch  her  as  I  have  clone,  struggling 
against  herself  and  wasting  to  death  in  the  struggle. 
She  used  to  come  and  spend  the  Sunday  with  me 
sometimes,  and  cry,  until  she  fainted  from  exhaus- 
tion. It  was  terrible,"  and  the  boy  shuddered. 
Vincent's  eyes  filled  painfully  as  he  listened. 

"  She  is  not  really  weak,"  Charlie  went  on,  in 
passionate  defence.  "  She  always  made  the  mistake 
of  trying  to  force  herself  beyond  endurance,  to 
drive  against  the  grain  of  her  nature,  to  do  things 
a  really  weak  woman  would  never  attempt.  It 
must  have  ended  in  suicide  at  last — that  was  what 
I  dreaded — she  wanted  her  liberty  so  much.  She 
had  always  had  it  from  a  child,  and  she  couldn't 
forgive  Reeves  for  taking  her  from  you.     She " 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  ring  at  the  outer 
bell,  and  before  either  had  time  to  alter  their 
position,  Reeves  had  entered  the  room.  As  Vin- 
cent had  expected,  he  had  come  flaring  round  the 
instant  he  had  received  his  note.  He  looked  more 
like  a  huge  white  cat  than  ever  this  morning  :  his 


PAULA  241 

pale  skin  seemed  to  have  an  additional  pallor,  and 
his  greenish-coloured  eyes  blinked  nervously  at  the 
sunlight  under  their  swollen  lids. 

"  Any  news  ?  "  asked  Vincent,  from  the  sofa. 

"  None,"  muttered  Reeves,  walking  over  to  them, 
his  eyes  travelling  all  over  the  room,  as  if  he  almost 
expected  to  see  Paula  now  crouching  behind  some 
piece  of  furniture. 

"  What  am  I  to  do,  I  say  ? "  and  he  looked  from 
one  to  the  other  with  a  ludicrous  helplessness. 

"  Can  I  offer  you  some  breakfast  ?"  asked  Vincent, 
sitting  up.  "  I  can  have  some  fresh  coffee  made  for 
you  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  No,  no,"  answered  Reeves  distractedly ;  "  I 
couldn't  touch  anything." 

"  Well,  but  haven't  you  any  clue  as  to  where 
she  would  be  likely  to  go  ?  "  said  Vincent. 

"  None,  none,"  returned  Reeves ;  "  I'm  utterly, 
totally,  at  a  loss." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  remarked  Vincent,  "  you  had 
better  wait  quietly ;  it's  quite  possible  she  will 
return  in  a  few  days.  I  am  going  over  to  Paris 
this  evening ;  can  I  make  any  inquiries,  or  help 
you  in  any  way  when  I'm  there  ?  " 

"  Paris  !  "  ejaculated  Reeves,  stopping  short  in  his 
fiery  walk.     "  But  why  should  she  go  there  ?  " 

"  No  reason ;  but  fugitives  sometimes  do," 
rejoined  Vincent.  His  voice  and  manner  were 
perfectly  calm.  Charlie  listened  with  acute 
attention. 

16 


242  PAULA 

"And  why  are  you  going?"  resumed  Reeves 
abruptly,  staring  fixedly  at  him ;  "  this  is  some- 
thing new." 

Vincent  laughed.  "  I  told  Charlie  days  ago  I 
was  going.  Didn't  I  ?  "  he  said,  carelessly  turning 
to  his  companion,  who  assented  at  once.  "  It's 
business,  as  usual,  with  our  firm's  agent.  He's 
over  there  now.  We  might  run  over  together,  if 
you  thought  it  any  good." 

Charlie's  breath  seemed  to  himself  to  halt  in  his 
lungs  as  he  heard.  Vincent  lay  pale,  unmoved, 
indifferent,  on  the  couch;  his.  voice  was  gentle, 
calm,  and  cold  as  usual. 

"No,"  grumbled  Reeves;  "how  can  I  go?  I 
can't  get  away  to-night  ;  besides,  she's  not  likely 
to  have  gone  so  far." 

Vincent  remained  silent  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  has  exhausted  his  stock  of  suggestions  and 
can  think  of  no  more.  Charlie  played  nervously 
with  a  tortoise-shell  paper-knife  he  had  taken  from 
the  table,  and  Reeves  stamped  gloomily  about 
with  his  eyes  on  the  carpet. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I'll  go  and  see  Austin  : 
he  and  Polly  were  always  chums ;  he  may  have 
heard  something  of  it  all.  Anyway,  he  is  a  clever 
fellow,  and  could  advise  me,  perhaps."  With  this 
speech,  which  was  not  exactly  complimentary  to 
his  present  advisers,  he  took  up  his  hat  and  went 
to  the  door. 

"Sec  you    again,   Charlie,"    with   a  nod    in    his 


PAULA  243 

direction.  "  I  suppose  I  shan't  see  you  again, 
Halham,  till  you  come  back.  By  the  way,  how 
long  do  you  stay  ?  " 

"  Oh,  two  days,  I  expect ;  not  more,"  answered 
Vincent. 

"  Well,  good-bye,"  said  Reeves,  and  went. 

"  I  think  you  were  splendid,"  murmured  Charlie, 
when  they  heard  the  door  bang  ;  but  a  wave  of 
light  scarlet  blood  swept  across  the  clear-outlined 
face  on  the  sofa  cushion. 

"  I  hate  telling  lies,"  he  said  passionately, 
springing  to  his  feet.  "  I  hate  having  to  delude 
and  trick  another,  even  for  her  sake.  This  is 
where  a  woman  always  leads  one.  Why,  in 
Heaven's  name,  didn't  your  sister  accept  me  when 
I  could  have  married  her,  given  her  all  I  had,  and 
when  there  was  no  third  person's  damned  inter- 
ference ? "  He  was  excited  now,  and  his  eyes 
shone  on  the  astonished  Charlie,  who  watched  him 
in  a  sort  of  fascination.  So  long  as  Reeves  had 
been  in  the  room,  Vincent  had  been  statuesque  in 
composure  and  indifference,  and  the  sharp  transi- 
tion was  arresting. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  slowly,  after  a  second  ;  "  I  admit 
it's  all  Paula's  fault."  The  words  touched  the 
generous  nature  of  the  other  to  the  quick. 

"  What  a  beast  I  am  to  have  spoken  like  that !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  Dear  little  girl  !  No,  it  was  not 
her  fault,  Charlie.  It  was  mine,  somehow  or 
other ;    it   must   have   been.      Well,   it's    no    use 


244  PAULA 

lamenting  the  past  now.  Are  you  coming  to 
cheer  me  whilst  I  pack  ?  I  must  get  some  things 
together."  Charlie  got  up,  and  the  two  men  went 
into  Vincent's  room.  Vincent  gave  him  a  comfort- 
able arm-chair,  and  proceeded  to  drag  out  his 
portmanteaus,  answering  Charlie's  questions  about 
his  sister  as  he  did  so. 

When  at  five  o'clock  Vincent  drove  up  to  the 
Great  Northern  with  a  couple  of  his  portmanteaus, 
he  looked  white  and  haggard,  and  as  he  entered 
Paula's  sitting-room  upstairs,  she  had,  in  the  ill- 
ness of  her  lover's  face,  a  first  faint  taste  of  all  the 
bitterness  that  lies  in  the  core  of  the  fruit  of  evil- 
doing.  She  sprang  from  the  chair  by  the  fire 
where  she  sat  waiting  for  him,  all  her  love  tremu- 
lous in  her  face  and  shining  in  her  eyes.  Vincent's 
tone  was  just  as  tender  and  his  smile  just  as  sweet 
for  her  as  he  caressed  her. 

"  Well,  darling,  you  must  have  had  a  dull  day, 
Pm  afraid,"  he  said  gently,  as  she  took  his  cold, 
half-frozen  hand  in  her  two  soft  palms,  deliciously 
warm  and  rosy.  His,  though  drawn  from  his  fur- 
lined  glove,  chilled  as  the  touch  of  snow  itself. 

"What  makes  you  look  so  ill,  Vincent?"  she 
asked,  with  tears  in  her  voice. 

"Do  I  look  ill?"  he  said,  smiling.  "Oh,  no- 
thing; I  am  a  little  tired,  I  suppose.  I  had  a  good 
deal  to  do  and  arrange  at  my  place  to  make  things 
quite  straight.  You  see,  we  may  not  want  to  come 
back  for  some  time,  and  leaving  so  suddenly  when 


PAULA  245 

you  are  not  sure  about  your  return  always  means 
work."  He  threw  himself  into  the  arm-chair, 
pulled  up  to  the  hearth  waiting  for  him,  and  drew 
Paula  on  to  his  knees. 

"  We  shall  come  back  as  soon  as  Reeves  has  got 
his  divorce,  shan't  we?"  she  said  softly. 

"  Possibly,"  he  returned,  languidly.  Contin- 
gencies, even  probable  ones,  never  interested  him. 
His  mind  was  of  the  clear-cut  order  that  faces 
facts  willingly,  but  objects  to  grappling  with  in- 
tangible hypotheses.  Paula's  mind,  the  imaginative, 
speculative  mind,  on  the  contrary,  had  the  true 
artistic  habit  of  leaping  over  the  actual  into  the 
theoretical,  of  looking  at  things  in  their  widest, 
most  general  sense,  of  scanning  their  far-reaching 
issues — of  passing  over  the  Is  into  the  Might  Be. 

In  this  case  Vincent  knew  perfectly  the  divorce 
Paula  assumed  so  lightly  was  not  even  a  possible 
contingency,  and  the  mention  of  it  brought  back 
for  an  instant  the  heart  sickness  of  the  morning. 
He  realised  all  his  love  was  unable  to  free  her  now 
from  the  fetters  she  had  so  carelessly  forged,  and 
he  felt,  too,  that  same  carelessness  which  had  been 
with  her  when  she  so  lightly  slipped  them  on,  was 
with  her  now  when  she  fancied  she  had  so  lightly 
laid  them  aside.  Her  gay,  reckless  nature,  trained 
and  fed  on  the  Greek  ideals  instead  of  the  English 
Bible,  recognised  only  two  really  serious  and 
important  things  in  life — art  and  love.  To  feel 
deeply  for,  or  be  deeply   impressed  by,  anything 


246  PAULA 

else  was  impossible  to  her.  Vincent  felt  this  as 
he  looked  at  her  and  saw  her  vivid,  radiant  face 
glowing  with  happiness,  where  another  woman's 
would  have  been  pale  with  anxiety  and  stained 
with  tears. 

"You  are  quite  happy?"  he  said  involuntarily, 
looking  up  at  her  with  a  laugh.  All  the  anxiety  he 
felt,  all  the  difficulties  he  foresaw  when  away  from 
her,  faded  utterly  here,  now,  under  the  irresistible 
power  of  her  physical  presence. 

"  Perfectly,"  she  answered,  her  hand  on  his  that 
held  her  waist. 

"  As  happy  as  if  you  had  married  me  instead  of 
Reeves  ?  " 

"Quite.  Does  anything  matter  if  we  have  each 
other?  "  It  was  the  simple  expression  of  her  view 
of  things. 

He  drew  the  lovely  head  down  suddenly  beside 
his  own.     "  No,  nothing !     Nothing  ! " 


XII 


Eleven  days  had  passed,  and  on  the  evening  of 
the  eleventh,  Paula  lay  on  a  couch  half-way 
between  the  fire  and  the  window  of  a  room  on  the 
first  floor  of  the  "  Hotel  de  l'Univers  et  de  Pro- 
vence," at  Marseilles.  The  window  overlooked  the 
quay  and  the  noble  harbour,  one  of  the  great 
harbours  of  the  world.  From  this  sitting-room 
one  could  see,  through  the  delicate  spires  of  a 
hundred  masts,  the  flat,  white-faced  houses  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  quay,  and  the  black  figures  of 
people  and  carts  moving  over  the  great  rough 
flagstones.  Here  and  there  in  a  gap  amongst  the 
huge  dark  hulls  one  caught  the  ripple  and  the 
shimmer  of  smooth  water,  and  over  all  poured  floods 
of  white  electric  light  that  shone  on  the  intricate 
meshes  and  webs  of  the  rigging,  making  a  silvery 
network  between  mast  and  mast.  What  is  there  in 
this  harbour  so  almost  painfully  moving?  As  one 
watches  its  ceaseless,  sleepless  stir,  its  regulated 
turmoil — as  one  sees  the  vessels  entering  and 
departing  with  their  freights  of  ardent,  eager,  living 

247 


243  PAULA 

beings,  notes  ship  after  ship  changing  and  giving 
place  to  another  in  the  eternal  coming  and  going, 
and  looks  on  all  the  restless,  heaving,  ordered 
disorder,  one  seems  to  lay  one's  hand  on  the  great 
throbbing  heart  of  humanity  and  hear  it  beat,  to 
hold  its  pulse  and  feel  it  rise  and  fall. 

Paula  lay  looking  with  dreaming  eyes  through 
the  panes.  There  was  a  faint  flush  under  the  soft 
skin,  an  unfinished  smile  trembled  on  the  parted 
lips.  Her  arms  were  doubled  above  her  head. 
She  was  waiting  for  Vincent  to  come  back.  He 
had  gone  to  see  about  their  berths  in  the  next 
vessel  starting  for  Australia,  and  she  had  stayed 
in  on  the  nominal  plea  of  feeling  tired,  but  really 
more  that  she  might  have  a  few  minutes  of  absolute 
solitude  in  which  to  enjoy,  to  realise,  her  own 
happiness  ; — to  take  it  up,  as  it  were,  in  both  hands, 
and  look  at  it  as  a  child  does  a  new  plaything. 
"I  am  happy,"  she  thought,  exultantly;  "and  for 
eleven  days  I  have  been  happy.  What  a  wonder- 
ful thing  to  have  possessed  and  had  !  and  when  it 
dies,  as  it  must  die,  it  will  leave  the  wonderful 
legacy  of  its  memory  behind."  She  glanced  back 
mentally  through  her  life.  The  years  stood  up 
before  her  in  grey  blocks  of  time,  like  a  line  of 
diminishing  cliffs,  the  farthest  away  being  small 
and  lost  in  mist.  And  on  the  face  of  them,  blazing 
in  white  light,  stood  out  eleven  days.    - 

Happiness,  what  is  it  like?     Like  the  gorgeous 
painted    butterfly    fluttering  high   over   our  head, 


PAULA  249 

with  the  sunlight  shining  on  its  burnished  wings. 
Our  hands  are  thrust  up  for  it,  and  the  hand  that 
clutches  it  finds  it  has  killed  it — sometimes.  But 
here  and  there  a  delicate  hand  and  a  magic  touch 
can  secure  it  alive,  and  then  the  butterfly  lives — 
for  a  little  while.  Paula  laughed,  a  little  gay  laugh, 
and  sprang  up  from  the  sofa.  "  Anyway,  I  have 
my  butterfly  at  present,  and  in  splendid  condition." 
She  walked  over  to  the  hearth,  stirred  the  fire,  and 
looked  in  the  glass,  leaning  her  elbows  on  the 
mantelpiece.  She  was  dressed  in  his  gifts.  He 
had  insisted  on  her  keeping  the  money  she  had 
and  giving  her  everything  she  needed  ;  and  she 
delighted  in  the  look  and  the  touch  of  them,  because 
they  were  his.  As  she  leant  there,  her  roseate  face 
supported  on  the  white  dimpled  hands,  she  saw 
the  door  open  behind  her  and  Vincent  enter.  The 
colour  in  her  face  deepened  and  the  blue  eyes 
smiled  caressingly  across  the  glass.  Vincent  came 
up  and  kissed  her,  drawing  her  head,  backwards  on 
to  his  shoulder. 

"  Where  have  you  been  such  an  age  ?  "  she  mur- 
mured, under  his  kiss. 

"  Yes,  it's  years,  as  you  say,"  he  returned ;  "  the 
?eon  of  half-an-hour.  I  have  secured  our  cabin, 
and  the  boat  leaves  on  Monday — I  wish  it  were 
to-night." 

"  Do  no  boats  leave  to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  one ;  but  I  couldn't  get  a  cabin  to  our- 
selves on  that  one." 


250  PAULA 

"  I  am  glad  you  didn't  take  it.  I  feel  it  would 
kill  me  to  be  separated  from  you  a  whole  twelve 
hours." 

Vincent  laughed,  and  pressed  her  closer.  "That 
is  what  I  feel,  too,  and  why  I  refused  the  berths 
this  morning  when  they  were  offered  me;  but  I 
know  it  was  unwise.  I  am  so  unwise  where  you 
are  concerned,  always." 

Paula  laughed  and  released  herself,  and  walked 
away  to  the  window  and  stood  looking  out  at  the 
brilliant  quay.  The  Monarch,  for  Alexandria,  had 
just  sailed  out  of  the  harbour,  leaving  behind  it 
its  empty  berth,  a  glistening  breadth  of  smooth 
black  water.  It  had  gone,  and  they  were  left 
behind.     Vincent  followed  her  to  the  window. 

"  But  it  doesn't  matter,  does  it?  " 

"We  must  hope  it  will  not,"  he  returned  gravely. 
"  In  any  case,  the  boat's  gone  now ;  it's  no  use 
thinking  of  it." 

"To-day's  Friday;  we  haven't  long  to  wait," 
remarked  Paula,  gazing  out  at  the  maze  of  light 
beneath  them ;  and  Vincent  gazed  at  her  and 
stroked  her  hair  gently  where  it  flowed  in  crink- 
ling golden  waves  above  her  little  white  ear. 

Nine  o'clock  chimed,  and  the  waiter  entered  the 
room  bringing  their  coffee  on  a  tray.  Paula  strolled 
back  into  the  room  and  over  to  the  fire  to  make 
and  light  a  cigarette,  humming  as  she  did  so,  "Ha! 
ha!  ha!  Madame  dc  Thomas!  Ellc  est  maigre 
commc    ci,   clle  est    maigre  comme  ca.     Elle  est 


PAULA  251 

maigre  comme  tout,  est  Madame  de  Thomas" — the 
last  song  they  had  heard  at  the  cafe  chantant  last 
night.  She  sugared  the  coffee,  and  Vincent  joined 
her  from  the  window  and  took  the  easy-chair  by 
the  hearth;  she  threw  herself  into  the  other  and 
crossed  one  knee,  so  that  her  foot  could  swing  to 
the  refrain  of  "Madame  de  Thomas." 

It  was  a  cosy  little  room  in  which  they  sat,  one 
part  bedroom  and  five  parts  sitting-room,  after  the 
manner  of  French  apartments.  The  bed  stood 
almost  hidden  in  an  alcove  draped  with  red ;  mir- 
rors, round  and  oval,  on  the  walls  gave  back  the 
sparkling  light  of  the  fire.  A  soft  steady  glow 
shed  from  the  lamp  swinging  from  the  ceiling 
showed  a  new  portmanteau  open  upon  the  floor, 
and  all  sorts  of  delicate  chiffons  and  articles  of 
feminine  attire  lying  on  the  chairs.  Paula  herself, 
sitting  in  the  midst  of  the  gay,  bright  confusion, 
showed  no  trace  of  the  terrible  stress  of  feelings 
that  had  lifted  her,  as  a  great  wave  in  life's  ocean, 
and  flung  her  on  to  this  stretch  of  sparkling  white 
sand,  this  reef  of  coral,  where  there  was  only 
sunlight  and  clear  water.  It  was  only  Vincent 
who  looked  a  little  grave,  and  stirred  his  coffee 
with  preoccupied  deliberation. 

"  You  look  quite  sad,"  said  Paula  in  her  caressing 
voice,  after  a  minute,  looking  across  at  him.  The 
light  from  above  fell  on  her  head  and  through  the 
gilt  waves  of  her  hair,  her  eyes  were  luminous  with 
the  excitement  of  his  presence. 


252  PAULA 

The  man  threw  a  look  over  her  that  was  in 
itself  almost  an  embrace.  "Yes;  because  I  feel 
I  ought  to  tell  you  something,  and  haven't  the 
courage,"  he  murmured. 

Paula  put  her  cup  down,  and  her  red  lips  parted 
faintly  in  a  smile.  "What  an  alarming  preface! 
What  can  it  be  ?     Do  tell  me  !  " 

"  Come  and  give  me  a  kiss  ;  then  I  will." 

In  almost  one  perfect,  single  movement  Paula 
slid  from  her  chair  to  her  knees  beside  him.  She 
put  her  arms  round  him  and  lifted  her  face  to  his. 
"  You  needn't  bribe  me  to  do  that,"  she  mur- 
mured.    "  Now  tell  me,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Supposing  it  makes  you  very  unhappy?  " 

Paula  laughed.  "  Nothing  can  harm  me  very 
much  now.  I  am  out  of  reach  of  the  gods. 
Vixir 

"  They  have  still  the  future." 

"  And  I  the  present.  I  don't  care  for  anything 
the  future  may  bring,  unless  it's  our  separation." 

"  This  might  even  mean  separation — it  did 
once  before,"  said  Vincent,  bitterly.  "  I  can't  bear 
telling  you,  only  I  feel  I  ought.  I  went  to  the 
Poste  Restantc  to-day  for  letters,  and  found  one 
there  from  Reeves.  Somehow  or  other  he  has 
learnt  that  we  are  here,  and  he  threatens  that  he 
will  remove  your  play  instantly  from  the  boards  if 
you  don't  return." 

Paula  lifted  her  head  from  his  shoulder  and 
looked  at  him.     He  had  grown  pale  with  the  effort 


PAULA  253 

it  had  cost  him  to  tell  her.  "  Is  that  all  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Yes.     Isn't  it  enough  ?  " 

Paula  laughed  joyously.  "  Let  him,"  she  said 
merely.  "  Let  him  put  the  whole  thing  on  the 
fire,  if  it  amuses  him.  It  is  his  and  the  public's 
loss." 

"  But  this  is  the  same  play,"  said  Vincent,  slowly, 
"  that  some  months  back  you  sacrificed  both  of  us 
for  deliberately." 

"  Yes,  because  I  was  a  child  ;  I  hadn't  learnt 
life's  alphabet.  A  child  will  give  away  his  in- 
heritance for  a  box  of  bonbons.  I  gave  away  mine 
for  the  bonbons  of  fame.  Afterwards  the  child 
sees  what  a  fool  he's  been,  as  I  do  now." 

Vincent  gazed  at  her  in  silence.  He  hardly 
understood  her  and  her  rapid,  violent  changes  of 
feeling.  And  this  very  fact  lent  her  an  additional 
attraction  for  him.  That  which  we  thoroughly 
understand  we  soon  tire  of.  What  a  charm  lies 
in  a  new  tongue,  and  once  learnt  how  little  we 
read  in  it ! 

"A  woman's  best  inheritance  is  herself,"  went  on 
Paula,  in  her  light,  derisive  tones.  "  If  she  invests 
that,  it  pays  her  back  in  dividends  of  pleasure.  If 
she  invests  her  talents,  they  pay  her  back  in  work." 

"And  you  don't  care  ?"  he  said,  looking  into  the 
brilliant,  mocking  face. 

"  I  don't  care — now." 

"Then   we   may   burn   this,  it   needs  no  further 


254  PAULA 

consideration,"  returned  Vincent ;  and  he  drew 
Reeves's  letter  from  his  pocket,  and  holding  aside 
her  hand  that  tried  to  intercept  it,  flung  it  on  the 
fire.     She  watched  it  curl  in  the  light  wood  flame. 

"  Why  didn't  you  let  me  see  it  ?  I  wanted  to," 
she  said  petulantly. 

"Why,  if  you  say  you  don't  care  ?  "  he  said,  laugh- 
ing, and  raising  his  eyebrows.  There  was  a  flush 
of  triumph  on  his  face.  The  half  of  all  passion 
is  vanity,  either  excited  or  gratified,  and  in  this 
complete  abandonment  of  gifts  and  favours  really 
divine  for  the  human  pleasure  he  could  offer,  was 
an  exquisite  flattery. 

"  That  idiotic  letter  has  depressed  you  all  day !  " 
she  said,  after  a  minute  ;  "  come  out  and  let's  go 
to  the  •  Basserie  des  Chouxfleurs '  and  hear  Jean 
Jaques  sing  Les  Tourterelles." 

Vincent  drew  out  his  watch.  "  It's  late  now, 
but  we  will  go  if  you  like." 

"Yes — I  should  like.  WThere  did  I  put  my 
dress  ?  I  say !  what  a  state  of  confusion  my 
things  are  in  !  " 

She  got  up  and  found  her  dress  and  jacket,  and 
was  equipped  in  them  in  five  minutes.  As  she  put 
on  her  hat  in  front  of  the  glass,  Vincent  came  up. 

"  Do  I  really  outweigh  everything  with  you  ?  " 
he  asked  in  her  ear. 

"  Why  don't  you  study  your  looking-glass  more, 
if  you  think  it  so  funny?"  she  said  mischievously, 
engaged  in  pinning  on  her  hat. 


PAULA 


0  3 


Vincent  laughed.  "  How  we  shall  have  to  pay 
for  all  this  happiness !  "  he  murmured,  half  un- 
consciously, looking  at  the  laughing  face  in  the 
glass. 

"  Nonsense,"  returned  Paula.  "  The  only  thing 
you  have  to  pay  for  in  this  world  is  doing  your 
duty.     Virtue  is  its  own  punishment  ! " 


XIII 

At  the  same  hour  the  following  evening,  Paula  sat 
in  her  room  nursing  her  happiness,  as  she  had  done 
the  preceding  one.  The  room  was  in  an  even 
greater  confusion  :  she  had  just  gone  to  the  bottom 
of  her  trunk  and  turned  everything  on  to  the  floor 
to  pack  it  another  way ;  then  her  mood  changing, 
she  had  flung  herself  into  a  chair  to  have  a  "think," 
and  she  hummed  absently  as  she  sat,  "  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 
Madame  de  Thomas." 

The  door  opened.  She  looked  up,  expecting 
Vincent.  It  was  the  waiter,  however,  who  advanced 
smiling.  "  A  letter  for  Madame,"  he  murmured. 
She  took  it  from  the  tray,  and  he  withdrew.  Paula 
tore  it  open  contemptuously.  She  recognised  the 
handwriting,  and  the  mere  sight  was  hateful  to  her. 

"25  Ouai  de  Robinet, 

Marseilles. 
"My   dear    Paula, — With   some   little  difficulty 
I  have  traced  you  and  followed  you,  and  I  am  now 
staying,  as  you  see,  next  door  to  you.     My  window 
overlooks  your  hotel  entrance. 

258 


PAULA  257 

"  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  rejoin  me  here  within 
two  hours  of  receiving  this  note,  so  that  we  can 
return  together  by  the  midnight  train  to  Paris. 

"  Should  you  not  see  fit  to  do  this,  I  intend 
shooting  Halham  at  sight.  I  may,  or  may  not,  be 
able  to  do  so  at  once,  but  as  I  shall  make  hunting 
him  down  my  sole  occupation  henceforward,  it  is 
unlikely  he  will  escape  me  long. 

"  I  am  quite  indifferent  as  to  what  penalty  I  have 
to  pay  myself.  I  am  determined  to  have  one  of 
two  things — either  my  wife  back  or  Halham's  life. 
Personally,  I  should  much  prefer  the  former,  but  I 
leave  the  choice  entirely  in  your  hands. 

"  Your  affectionate  husband, 

"Dick  Reeves." 

There  was  a  little  flutter  of  paper  as  the  letter 
fell  to  the  ground.  Paula  rose  to  her  feet,  and  her 
eyes  looked  about  the  room  as  the  eyes  of  a  wild 
beast  when  first  caught  in  the  trap.  It  was  terrible, 
awful,  never  to  be  forgotten  if  once  seen,  the  look 
in  the  girl's  face  of  hatred  coupled  to  despair.  The 
full  realisation  came  home  to  her  at  once  of  all 
they  meant,  those  few  words  traced  on  the  silent 
paper.  They  were  Vincent's  death-warrant  await- 
ing her  signature.  Then  for  the  first  time  she  felt 
how  she  loved  this  man — more  than  life  or  eternity, 
more  than  her  own  body  and  soul,  more  than  the 
world  or  heaven,  was  this  other  slight  perishable 
frame    animated    with    its    day    of    human    life. 

1; 


258  PAULA 

"Vincent!  Vincent!"  she  said  aloud.  It  was 
the  cry  of  a  dying  human  soul. 

She  saw  there  was  but  one  way  before  her — 
to  go  back.  There  was  no  haze  in  her  brain,  no 
dazed  and  merciful  obscurity.  All  in  her  brain 
stood  out  sharp,  distinct,  and  clear.  She  made  a 
step  forward,  then  stopped,  as  if  paralysed.  "  My 
God !  my  God  !  why  are  you  so  fearfully  cruel  ? 
It  was  a  crime  to  marry  him,  I  know,  but  I  was 
blinded.  Who  sent  that  blindness  upon  me  ? 
Then  I  suffered  for  ten  months — how  I  suffered! 
and  now  this  agony.  All  this  punishment  for  all 
my  life  long  for  one  error,  one  folly.  Is  it  just? 
Is  it  just?" 

A  mocking  voice  repeated  in  her  ears,  "  Have 
you  forgotten, '  the  way  of  trangrcssors '  ?  "  But  the 
voice  died  again  in  waves  of  memory  from  her 
childhood's  training.  She  was  not  a  Christian 
with  the  humble  Christian's  ideas  of  a  merciful 
Father,  with  merciful  chastisements  and  a  merciful 
recall  to  the  fold.  It  seemed  to  her  a  strange, 
inexplicable  fate  that  had  blinded  her  in  her  girl- 
hood and  thrown  her  into  marriage  with  Reeves, 
that  same  inexorable  fate  that  had  hounded  her 
on  to  rebellion,  and  now  again  that  fate  that 
pursued  her  in  its  fury  to  hurl  her  back  into  the 
abyss.  She  was  the  helpless  shade  drifting  before 
the  whirlwind. 

She  paced  up  and  down  the  room  as  a  Roman 
slave   might   pace   whilst   waiting   for  the   torture. 


PAULA  259 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  and  no  escape,  and 
she  knew  it.  She  walked  with  her  teeth  sunk  in 
her  lip  till  the  blood  from  it  ran  in  a  tiny  thread 
to  her  chin,  and  she  did  not  notice  it;  her  nails 
were  sunk  into  the  flesh  of  her  palms  in  her 
clenched  hands.  Only  one  thing  possessed  her 
mind  now.  The  man  she  loved  should  not  suffer. 
As  she  came  up  to  the  window,  the  brilliance  of 
the  harbour  with  its  swaying  load  of  vessels  and 
their  silvery  rigging  caught  the  mechanical  vision, 
and  she  looked  out.  "  Had  we  gone  yesterday 
night,"  she  thought,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  we  might 
have  escaped."     Well,  it  was  not  to  be. 

The  door  opened  as  she  stood  there,  and  she 
turned  and  saw  Vincent  enter.  Was  it  only  her 
malignant  fate  that  dazzled  and  deluded  her 
vision  ?  Or  did  he  really  look  better,  more 
pleasing,  more  attractive  than  usual  that  night  ? 
His  face  was  slightly  flushed  with  the  cold  air 
outside,  his  eyes  animated  with  the  thought  that 
he  was  coming  back  to  her ;  a  smile  broke  over  his 
lips  as  she  came  to  him.  The  next  moment  her 
arms  were  twisted  tightly  round  his  throat ;  her 
warm  lips  on  his  seemed  seeking  to  draw  out  his 
life. 

"Why,  what  is  it,  darling?"  he  asked,  con- 
cernedly. 

"  Oh,  Vincent !   I  must  give  you  up — go  back." 

"  Go  back  !"  he  repeated,  almost  sharply.  "What 
are  you  talking  about  ?  " 


260  PAULA 

"  He  will  kill  you  otherwise." 

Vincent  gave  a  relieved  laugh.  "  Oh,  is  that 
all  ?  "  he  said,  merely  taking  off  his  hat  and  laying 
it  down.  Then  drawing  her  over  to  the  fire,  he 
stood  opposite  her  on  the  rug  and  put  his  arms 
round  her  again.  "  Well,  Sweetness,  that  amiable 
intention  of  his  is  not  new  to  me." 

"  Read  it,"  she  said,  with  dry  lips  and  throat ; 
and  she  gave  him  the  letter. 

Vincent  took  the  sheet  from  her  ice-cold  hand 
and  read  it,  keeping  her  trembling  frame  against 
his  side.  When  he  came  to  the  end  he  flung  the 
letter  on  the  table  and  laughed,  and  bent  over  her 
and  kissed  her  bleeding  lips. 

"  I  admit  it's  very  neatly  put :  succinct  and  to 
the  point — worthy  of  one  of  your  own  plays, 
darling.  But  as  to  shooting — two  can  shoot,  if  it 
comes  to  that.  Since  we  left  I  have  never  been 
without  this  as  my  hospes  comesque  corporis,"  and 
he  drew  out  his  own  little  revolver,  and  the  steel 
glistened  in  the  firelight. 

Paula  clung  to  him  in  silence. 

"  He  put  a  charming  postscript  to  his  last  letter 
about  the  play,  but  I  didn't  want  you  to  be 
bothered.  I  didn't  think  he  would  write  again 
and  fuss  you  about  it."  He  spoke  as  lightly  as 
if  a  troublesome  tradesman  had  sent  in  his  bill. 
Xor  was  it  affectation.  Danger  is  an  exhilaration 
to  some  temperaments.  It  was  to  him.  His  eyes 
sparkle  1  as  he  glanced  over  his  own  steel  toy. 


PAULA  261 

"But  don't  you  understand  .  .  .  that  ...  I  .  .  . 
can't  .  .  .  stay  ?  "  said  Paula.  Her  lips  and  throat 
were  so  dry  she  could  hardly  articulate.  She 
trembled  so  violently  that  the  bracelets  on  her 
arm  clinked  together. 

Vincent  laid  down  the  revolver  on  the  table  and 
looked  at  her  with  sudden  gravity. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  he  said  briefly.  "  I 
want  you  to  understand  once  for  all  that  there's 
nothing  else  for  you  to  do." 

Paula  looked  back  at  him  in  silence.  The  agony 
that  held  her  brain  seemed  almost  to  deprive  her 
of  her  reasoning  powers  and  of  her  speech.  It  was 
more  instinct  that  worked  in  her  than  reason — the 
defensive  instinct  acting  for  him.  If  a  mother, 
Paula  would  have  fought  to  the  death  for  her 
young,  and  the  wealth  of  unused  maternal  instinct 
within  Nature  used  now  for  her  lover.  Paula 
stood  with  her  arms  hanging  at  her  sides  motion- 
less for  a  second,  then  her  strained  eyes  wandered 
from  his  face  to  the  clock.     She  started  violently. 

"  Look  at  the  time  !  He  said  two  hours  ! "  Her 
voice  was  thin  with  fear,  her  lips  white  except  where 
the  blood  had  stained  them.  She  turned  mechani- 
cally from  him  to  the  table,  seized  the  linen  and  the 
dainty  pairs  of  new  shoes  laid  upon  it,  and  dropped 
them  into  the  open  trunk.  An  unconscious  instinct 
for  a  commonplace  matter  worked  while  her  mind 
was  reeling  in  a  blind  horror  of  pain.  She  had 
been    going   to  Egypt,  and  she   was   packing  for 


262  FAULA 

that :  now  she  was  going  somewhere  else,  but  she 
must  pack  for  that  too.  The  movement  convinced 
Vincent  of  her  intentions  which  he  would  not 
believe  from  her  words.  She  meant,  then,  to 
return,  to  go  back  to  the  other  man,  and  suddenly, 
through  all  the  nineteenth-century  culture,  through 
his  self-command,  and  the  delicate  refinement 
of  habitual  thought  and  feeling,  rushed  up  the 
simple,  savage,  primal  impulse — the  blind  jealousy 
of  male  against  male. 

He  seized  her  arm  and  tore  her  backwards  from 
the  trunk.  She  looked  up  and  saw  his  face  close 
above  hers,  and  as  she  had  never  seen  it  yet.  It 
was  transfigured  by  anger,  and  that  anger  against 
her !  but  she  had  no  fear  in  her ;  if  he  would  only 
kill  her  she  would  be  glad  !  The  grip  on  her  arm 
forced  the  tears  into  her  eyes,  through  them  she 
looked  at  him.  The  usually  pale  skin  burned  with 
a  dull  crimson,  his  eyes  were  blazing,  the  mouth 
and  chin  were  set  in  an  iron  cruelty. 

"What  folly  is  this,  Paula?  Do  you  suppose 
you  can  go  backwards  and  forwards,  and  trifle 
with  me  like  this?  You  chose  to  come;  now  I 
choose  you  to  stay,  and  there's  an  end  of  it." 

Paula  gazed  at  him  with  her  filling  eyes,  and,  as 
in  her  own  case  far  back,  his  face  took  up  arms 
against  his  words — it  appealed  so  vividly  to  Paula. 
At  this  crisis  of  her  life,  and  of  her  own  happiness, 
the  impersonal  instinct  leapt  up  in  her  and  con- 
quered.    Marred  as  it  was  with  rage,  every  line  in 


PAULA  263 

the  countenance  was  noble  and  perfectly  drawn. 
It  was  handsome;  to  the  woman  who  loved  him, 
it  was  beautiful ;  to  the  artist  it  was  sacred.  A 
plainer  man  Paula  would  have  loved,  and  perhaps, 
now,  stayed  with. 

"  He  might  not  even  kill  you,"  she  said,  and  her 
voice  was  almost  calm.  She  was  thinking  aloud 
rather  than  speaking.  "  He  might  maim  you,  dis- 
figure you,  blind  you.     How  can  I  stay?  " 

He  looked  down  at  the  raised  face  with  its  wide, 
tear-filled  eyes.  In  spite  of  all  she  had  passed 
through  Paula's  face  still  retained  a  wonderfully 
innocent  child-like  look  that  aarae  back  to  it  and 
lingered  on  it  at  moments  now  and  then.  The  look 
was  there  now,  and  it  melted  Vincent's  passion  of 
anger.  He  drew  her  up  close  into  his  arms  and 
felt  the  heart  beating  in  a  wild  tumult  on  his  own. 

"  Even  if  he  did  all  these  imaginary  things,"  he 
murmured  in  his  old  tone  and  with  his  old  smile, 
"  none  of  them  would  be  so  bad  as  giving  you  up. 
And  why  think  of  what  may  never  be  the  case  at 
all?  I  never  do.  You  are  always  fighting  pos- 
sible battles,  solving  hypothetical  problems.  You 
shouldn't  do  it.  Wait  till  the  things  come.  It's 
quite  improbable  that  we  shall  meet  at  all ;  if  we 
do,  I  should  imagine  I'm  the  straighter  shot  of  the 
two." 

"No!  I  can't  stay,  I  can't,"  replied  Paula,  her 
voice  stifled  with  weeping;  "don't  ask  me — oh, 
don't,"    and  she   freed   herself  from  his  clasp  and 


264  PAULA 

went  on  gathering  her  things  together  mechani- 
cally, and  throwing  them  into  her  trunk  with  the 
tears  streaming  down  her  blanched  cheeks. 

Vincent  sat  down  in  the  centre  of  the  disordered 
room  and  followed  her  with  his  eyes.  She  went 
through  every  detail  of  her  packing,  sobbing  all 
the  while,  and  her  hands  quivering  violently  as  she 
folded  the  things  together.  She  seemed  half  un- 
conscious of  all  she  did;  even  her  crying  seemed 
unconscious;  the  tears  streamed  down  and  she 
never  once  paused  to  dry  them.  At  last  the  trunk 
was  full,  and  she  knelt  and  locked  it ;  then  standing 
up,  she  surveyed  the  room:  all  was  finished;  she 
slipped  the  keys  into  her  pocket  and  came  up  to 
him  to  say  good-bye. 

She  put  one  arm  round  his  shoulders,  but  Vincent 
did  not  stir.  "Say  good-bye  to  me,  Vincent, 
won't  you?"  she  said,  in  her  sobbing  voice;  "you 
may  never  see  me  again." 

"  I  have  told  you,  you  are  to  stay:  you  are  dis- 
obeying me." 

"  But  I  can't  stay  to  murder  you.  I  am  only 
going  for  you." 

"  I  must  know  what  I  wish  most,  and  I  tell  you 
to  stay." 

"  I  can't." 

"  Very  good;  then  you  have  dune  with  me." 

The  coldness  and  hardness  of  the  words  and 
tones — the  result  of  his  own  intense  feeling  — 
seemed  to  crush  the  trembling  girl  as  a  physical 


PAULA  265 

blow.  She  threw,  herself  passionately  on  her  knees 
before  him  and  clasped  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  Vincent,  say  you  forgive  me,  and  let  me 
go  in  peace." 

"  I  can't  do  that,"  returned  Vincent,  with  un- 
changed face  and  voice.  "  You  have  had  your  own 
way  all  along  against  my  wishes  and  judgment, 
and  in  consequence  have  spoilt  both  our  lives.  I 
warned  you  not  to  marry  Reeves,  and  you  would. 
I  urged  you  then  not  to  leave  him,  and  you  would. 
Now  I  tell  you  to  stay,  and  you  insist  upon  going: 
well,  go  then,  and,  as  I  say,  have  done  with  me, 
that's  all." 

His  face  was  pale  with  the  stress  of  suppressed 
passions.  Paula,  kneeling  there,  wrung  her  hands 
despairingly. 

"  But  he  will  follow  us — you — wherever  we  go." 

"  You  knew  that  when  you  left  him." 

"Not  that  he  might  kill  you.  No,  no,  no;  I 
swear  I  never  dreamed  of  it." 

"  I  have  told  you  I  would  rather  risk  it  ten 
thousand  times  than  have  the  pain  of  losing  you, 
and  the  humiliation  of  giving  you  up  to  Reeves." 

Paula  looked  up  at  him  through  her  blinding 
tears.  For  a  moment  she  wavered,  it  was  so  easy, 
so  delightful  to  stay:  the  temptation  was  very  great, 
life  with  him  until  found — if  found — by  Reeves, 
and  then  simple  death  by  her  own  hand  if  he  were 
taken  from  her  ;  but  to  go  back,  to  enter  again 
that    dark,     narrow    path      of    degradation     that 


266  PAULA 

she  must  tread  downwards  to  the  end :  it  was 
almost  beyond  her  strength,  but  then — she  looked 
hard  at  the  face  she  loved,  and  it  swam  suddenly 
before  her  in  a  mist  of  blood. 

"  Let  me  go,"  she  said,  in  a  faint,  breathless 
voice,  with  dilated  eyes. 

"  I  have  said,  go." 

"  But  with  your  consent  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Say  you  forgive  me  ;  condemn  me,  think  me  in 
the  wrong,  but  forgive  me." 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  must  go  unforgiven,"  she  said  suddenly, 
starting  to  her  feet.  "Oh,  Vincent,  nobody  can 
ever  love  you  in  this  world  as  I  have  done,  and  do, 
and  always  shall.  I  would  give  up  my  life  this 
minute  for  yours  if  it  would  benefit  you,  but  that 
wouldn't.  Going  back  to  him  does  protect  you, 
and  I  must  do  it." 

Vincent  did  not  seek  to  restrain  her  by  force : 
he  looked  up,  and  the  last  he  saw  of  her  was  her 
pale  face  and  passionate  eyes  gazing  back  at 
him  from  the  darkness  beyond  the  threshold  of 
the  door.  Then  she  was  gone.  Vincent  sat  on 
motionless.  By-and-by  some  men  belonging  to 
the  hotel  came  up  to  take  her  portmanteau  and 
handbag.  He  took  no  notice.  The  men  took  the 
things  out  in  silence  and  closed  the  door. 

Mechanically,  like  a  sleep-walker,  she  had  gone 
straight  from  him  to  her  husband's  room.     Reeves 


PAULA  267 

looked  up  and  saw  her  enter:  her  face  was  livid 
and  lin°d  and  seamed,  the  eyes  looked  out  at  him 
with  an  undying  hatred  and  reproach.  His  own, 
flinching  yet  compelled  to  remain  fixed  on  hers, 
grew  wide  with  a  nervous  terror.  She  staggered 
forward  a  few  steps  almost  as  one  drunk,  and  he 
shrank  back  in  his  chair  before  her. 

"  You  have  come  back  ? "  he  muttered  vaguely, 
mechanically,  with  his  mouth  hanging  open. 

"  For  his  sake,"  returned  Paula.  She  had  no 
voice,  but  the  dry  lips  moved  and  he  saw  them 
form  those  words.  She  swayed  for  a  second,  then 
dropped  speechless  where  she  stood.  Reeves 
started  up  and  bent  over  the  little  huddled,  broken 
heap  on  the  hearth,  nerveless,  limp,  almost  lifeless, 
with  little  beauty  in  it  now,  and  on  the  ashen  lips 
the  stamp  of  an  eternal  hate. 

He  had  got  his  wife  back.  Was  this  his  wife? 
Who  can  constrain  the  human  soul  ? 


XIV 

The  journey  back  to  Paris  was  terrible.  Paula 
was  perfectly  silent  and  passive,  like  a  re-captured 
fugitive  from  an  asylum,  whose  frenzy  has  spent 
itself.  She  moved  and  acted  as  was  required 
mechanically,  but  with  such  a  will-less  indifference 
that  Reeves  looked  at  her  from  time  to  time  with 
a  paralysing  fear  gripping  his  heart  Suppose  this 
brain,  so  strangely  excitable  at  all  times,  should 
lose  its  balance — the  perfect,  delicate  balance — 
and  the  powers  it  had  been  divinely  gifted  with  ? 
He  was  oppressed,  and  before  leaving  the  semi- 
apartment,  semi-hotel,  he  made  his  way  to  the  bar 
and  drank  largely  to  dull  his  thoughts  a  little. 
Only  once  did  Paula  give  evidence  that  she  was 
still  a  rational,  sentient  being,  and  that  was  before 
they  descended  the  stairs,  when  Reeves  slipped 
his  revolver  into  his  handbag.  Her  eyes  flashed 
as  they  followed  it  in  silence.  When  they  came 
down  he  was  a  little  behind  her,  and  she  stood  on 
the  pavement  looking  up  to  the  window  above  her 
in  the  next-door  hotel.     It  was  still  lighted.     The 

263 


PAULA  269 

night  was  icy,  with  a  north  wind  sweeping  down 
the  snow-laden  streets.  Her  velvet  jacket  lay  back 
unfastened  from  her  throat  and  chest.  She  felt  the 
cold  pierce  through  and  through  her.  Where  was 
he?  Was  he  still  sitting  there  motionless?  She 
thought  so,  and  the  wall  and  window  and  blind 
became  transparent  for  her. 

"Come!  get  into  the  carriage,  you'll  catch  cold," 
said  Reeves's  voice  behind  her.  She  walked  for- 
ward quietly  and  took  her  seat.  The  train  left 
Marseilles  punctually  at  midnight.  In  the  first- 
class  carriage  besides  themselves  were  two  other 
passengers,  Frenchmen.  Reeves  took  one  corner, 
and  his  wife  lay  a  crushed,  seemingly  inanimate 
figure  in  the  opposite  one.  Reeves  put  his  railway 
rug  over  her  and  lifted  her  feet  on  to  the  foot-warmer. 
She  took  no  notice,  her  face  was  whiter  than  the 
snow  lying  on  the  window  ledges,  and  her  eyes 
were  closed.  Reeves  took  the  large  velvet  hat 
next  from  her  head  and  put  it  up  on  the  rack.  The 
Frenchman  opposite  looked  round  the  Gil  Bias  he 
was  reading,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  blonde 
cJievelure  thus  revealed  with  undisguised  admira- 
tion. The  Frenchman  beside  her  looked  sym- 
pathetic and  observed  that  Madame  appeared 
souffrante.  At  the  one  break  that  occurs,  when 
the  train  stops  for  twenty  minutes,  their  carriage 
emptied  itself,  and  Reeves  asked  Paula  if  he  could 
get  her  anything,  or  if  she  would  come  to  the 
refreshment   room.     She  simply  shook  her  head, 


2;o  PAULA 

and  he  got  out,  leaving  her  alone,  and  the  carriage 
door  open. 

In  the  next  carriage,  also  on  their  way  to  Eng- 
land, travelled  a  British  paterfamilias  and  his  two 
daughters.  They  descended  also  and  passed 
Paula's  carriage  on  their  way  to  the  refreshment 
room. .  He  happened  to  glance  in  and  saw  her 
face  and  figure  and  light  head  under  the  lamp- 
light. "  By  Jove,"  he  said  to  his  two  girls,  "  we 
have  a  celebrity  travelling  with  us.  That's  Paula 
Heywood  in  the  next  carriage,  the  great  dancer; 
I  recognised  her  directly.  That's  her  husband,  that 
big  man  on  in  front,  in  the  fur  coat — see  him?" 
Both  girls  were  deeply  interested.  In  the  refresh- 
ment room  he  regretted  his  remark,  for  they  could 
hardly  let  him  finish  his  coffee,  so  eager  were  they 
to  see  what  Paula  "  was  like  off  the  stage."  They 
hurried  him  breathlessly  up  to  the  platform  again 
that  they  might  have  a  glimpse  at  her  before  the 
train  started. 

"There's  a  person  I  envy,"  said  the  younger 
girl.  "  Fancy  having  all  that !  Youth  and  beauty 
and  fame,  and  being  able  to  do  all  those  things ! 
Write,  and  act,  and  dance  !  and  lots  of  money,  and 
a  husband  who  adores  you  !  She  must  be  perfectly 
happy.  Why  should  everything  be  given  to  one 
person  ?  "  she  added  vehemently. 

"  Unto  him  that  hath,  etc.,"  answered  her  father 
as  they  approached  the  open  door.  "  Now,  my 
chick,  don't  stare  too  much." 


PAULA  271 

The  three  comfortable  English  figures  drew  close 
to  the  carriage,  the  two  girls'  hearts  beating  with 
curiosity  and  interest.  "Is  she  in  this  one?"  the 
elder  girl  whispered  audibly,  and  her  father  nodded. 
They  looked  round  the  door.  Paula,  who  had 
caught  the  whisper,  had  started  up  nervously  and 
flung  her  rugs  aside.  She  sat  up,  yet  half  crouch- 
ing as  a  sick  lion  does  when  suddenly  roused.  Pier 
face  was  white,  her  lips  blue  and  swollen  from  the 
wounds  her  teeth  had  made.  Her  eyes  blazed  out 
with  a  restless,  nervous  glitter  upon  the  three  rosy, 
kindly  British  faces  looking  in.  Out  of  the  pupils 
looked  such  a  horrible,  hopeless  agony  of  unreason- 
ing despair  that  the  kind-hearted  father  drew  on 
his  girls  hastily. 

"  By  Jove  !  it's  a  cold  night,"  he  said,  shivering  ; 
"  get  in,  dears,  get  in,"  and  he  helped  them  into 
their  own  carriage.     The  girls  said  nothing. 

"  En  voiture,  en  voiture"  came  along  down  the 
platform;  "montez,  messieurs,  montez,  s'il  votes  plait." 

Reeves  came  tearing  down  the  train,  his  long  fur 
coat  flying  out,  showing  its  inside  pockets.  His 
face  was  flushed  with  the  many  brandies  he  had 
been  consuming.  He  had  just  time  to  scramble 
up  the  high  steps  of  the  carriage  with  the  aid  of 
the  porter.  The  door  was  banged  to.  The 
train  slid  forward  into  the  darkness.  On  the  trio 
in  the  next  carriage  was  a  great  silence.  At  last 
the  youngest  said,  "  She  didn't  look  very  happy." 

"  She  ought  to  be  then,  if  she  is  not,"  answered 


272  PAULA 

the  other  daughter,  with  asperity.  She  was  a  tall, 
lean  girl,  pleasant,  plain,  and  good-tempered, 
except  when  a  rush  of  rebellion  came  over  her 
against  the  fate  that  had  spared  her  the  agony  of 
its  gifts. 

"  Those  people  seldom  are,"  returned  their  father, 
oracularly. 

The  lean  girl  looked  out  into  the  darkness,  in- 
scrutable as  the  mystery  of  life  itself.  "All  the 
same,  she  must  have  had  her  moments,"  she  said 
with  bitter  envy.  She  was  ashamed  to  add  her 
inner  thought  that  followed,  "  I  have  never  had 
one." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  the  Briton  grimly,  "  I  don't 
doubt  it,  and  she's  paying  for  some  of  them  now, 
if  I'm  not  mistaken." 

His  daughter  said  nothing.  She  stared  out  into 
the  darkness,  thinking  of  the  other  woman  on  the 
other  side  of  the  thin  wooden  partition.  She  felt 
dimly  such  pain  as  had  looked  out  of  that  face 
must  have  been  the  child  of  some  exquisite  pleasure 
her  mind  could  hardly  conceive.  And  the  vague- 
ness, the  mystery  that  hung  like  a  tantalising  veil 
round  both  the  pleasure  and  pain,  fascinated  her. 
It  was  not  all  commiseration  that  stirred  in  her, 
her  pity  was  strangely  like  envy.  She  looked  out 
with  attentive  eyes.  Every  time  the  train  passed 
into  a  tunnel  or  through  a  cutting,  the  light  from 
the  next  carriage  flared  upon  the  opposite  brick- 
work, and  the  outlines  of  the  four  figures  within, 


PAULA  273 

clearly  silhouetted   in  sharp  shadow,  flitted  along 
the  wall. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  partition  Reeves  sat 
back  in  his  corner,  his  mind  clouded  and  soothed 
by  the  station  brandy,  and  after  a  time  sank  into 
a  semi-doze.  Paula,  opposite  him,  sat  white  and 
rigid,  looking  away  from  the  broad  face  with  its 
drunken  flush  into  the  flying  darkness  at  her  side. 
Death  was  there,  almost  certain  death;  if  she  turned 
the  handle  and  sprang  forward,  death  and  oblivion 
awaited  her,  but  she  looked  out  calmly.  It  neither 
tempted  nor  invited  her.  It  is  not  those  who 
suffer  most  that  recruit  the  suicidal  ranks.  The 
capacity  to  feel  intense  pain  means  also  the 
capacity  to  feel  intense  joy,  and  in  natures  like 
Paula's,  in  their  moments  of  cruellest,  inexpressible 
agony,  the  memory  or  the  anticipation  of  pleasure 
welds  round  them  a  chain  to  life  that  even  their 
pain  cannot  break.  It  is  rather  those  of  lower 
strung  temperaments,  not  remembering  that  life 
has  ever  offered  them  much  worth  having,  and 
not  believing  that  it  ever  will,  who  go  from  it  so 
easily  when  a  deeper  tint  of  grey  suffering  comes 
over  it. 

On  flew  the  train  through  the  snowy  night. 
All  the  three  men  fell  asleep  by  degrees,  only 
the  girl  sat  with  wide  eyes  the  whole  night  long 
and  saw  the  blackness  beyond  the  windows  change 
and  lighten  in  the  chill  blue  dawn.  In  the  wild 
fury  of  rebellion  against  her  fate,  there  remained 

18 


274  PAULA 

one  clear  thought  in  her  brain — "  It  is  my  duty." 
The  duty  of  convention  that  would  have  compelled 
her  to  remain  with  a  husband  she  had  grown  to 
hate  simply  because  he  was  her  husband,  Paula 
did  not  understand,  but  the  moral  obligation  to 
save,  at  any  cost  to  herself,  the  man  she  loved, 
appealed  to  her  forcibly,  irresistibly.  As  she  would 
have  flung  herself  upon  the  rack  and  kissed  it,  had 
it  been  to  save  him  suffering,  so  now  she  set  her 
face  towards  the  old  life  she  loathed,  and  would 
endure  it  to  the  end  for  his  sake. 

All  through  the  journey  she  was  excessively 
silent,  and  this  silence  oppressed  and  awed  Reeves. 
He  longed  at  last  for  her  to  cry,  to  complain,  to 
argue,  to  defend  herself,  but  she  did  none  of 
these.  Hour  after  hour  of  their  travelling  passed, 
and  she  remained  quite  speechless.  Then  he 
began  to  understand  how  much  he  missed  the 
brilliant,  versatile  talk,  the  clear  laughter  that  he 
had  always  heard  about  him  when  with  her ;  if 
not  with  himself,  with  friends,  acquaintances, 
strangers — any  chance  companions.  He  felt  sud- 
denly like  a  child  who  has  re-captured  a  pet  bird 
and  thrust  it  back  into  its  cage  with  delight,  and 
then  waits  and  waits  in  vain  for  his  songster  to 
sin£  a<jain.  "Would  she  alwavs  be  like  this?" 
he  asked  himself  nervously  and  vaguely.  Her 
movements  he  could  control.  Speech  and  laughter 
were  things  of  the  spirit.  These  would  elude  him 
as  her  spirit  that  he  grasped  after  had  always  done. 


PAULA  275 

He  was  profoundly  thankful  when  the  journey 
was  over,  and  they  took  up  life  again,  side  by  side, 
apparently  as  before.  For  the  first  three  weeks 
Paula  lay  upstairs  ill.  Reeves  had  a  hired  nurse 
for  her,  and  this  woman  resolutely  kept  him  out 
of  the  room.  Charlie  came  to  see  her  constantly, 
and  it  was  only  in  his  arms  that  Paula's  self- 
command  broke  down  in  agonies  of  passionate 
weeping.  This  sweet,  constant  affection  that  had 
always  existed  between  the  two  was  perhaps  the 
best  and  purest  element  in  the  girl's  disordered 
life,  and  now  it  stepped  into  the  jagged  gap  and 
helped  to  soothe  the  wounds  passion  had  made. 
"  If  he  would  have  forgiven  me  !  if  he  would  have 
understood  why  I  left  him ! "  she  repeated  con- 
stantly, with  tears,  and  looking  up  at  him  with 
blinded  eyes  from  the  pillows  she  was  too  weak 
to  lift  her  head  from. 

At  last,  however,  she  was  well,  nominally,  again, 
and  the  nurse,  who  had  grown  to  love  her  through 
watching  her  long  days  and  nights  of  suffering, 
left,  and  Paula,  dressed  in  black,  like  the  widow 
she  seemed  to  herself  to  be,  and  silent  as  one  who 
has  lost  her  speech,  came  downstairs  and  resumed 
all  her  former  duties.  She  was  very  quiet,  with 
the  quietude  of  a  dying  person,  and  when  not 
forced  into  any  occupation  would  sit  silent  and 
motionless  in  an  arm-chair,  each  hand  leaning  on 
an  arm  and  her  eyes  closed,  for  hour  after  hour. 

And  Reeves  would  glance  at  her  from  time  to 


276  PAULA 

time  with  complete  satisfaction.  She  was  there. 
That  was  the  main  consideration.  That  her  face 
was  deadly  white,  and  that  her  bones  once  so 
softly  invisible  stood  out  sharply,  that  all  beauty 
and  youth  were  decaying  before  him,  troubled  him 
as  little  as  that  her  intellect  seemed  already  dead. 
Her  hand  had  lost  its  cunning ;  at  any  rate,  she 
never  lifted  it  to  a  pen  now.  He  was  grimly 
satisfied.  Well  or  ill,  happy  or  unhappy,  mattered 
little  with  reference  to  the  woman  he  loved.  The 
decline  of  beauty,  the  waste  of  power  moved  him 
not  at  all.  There  were  times  when  she  looked 
nearest  dying,  that  he  almost  wished  she  were 
dead.  It  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  wrap  her  up 
in  her  shroud,  put  her  into  her  coffin,  and  fasten 
the  lid  down  securely.  Then  he  could  be  at 
peace  at  last  He  could  know  certainly  that  she 
could  never  escape  him,  be  sure  that  those  lips 
would  never  grow  warm  under  another's  kiss,  nor 
that  form  respond  to  life,  and  joy,  and  love. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  the  days  crept  on  one  after 
the  other,  and  Paula  thought  hourly  she  would  not 
have  the  strength  to  live  from  the  one  to  the  next, 
but  beyond  the  flesh  wasting  from  her  bones,  there 
was  little  outward  change  in  her  health.  She 
attended  the  theatre  regularly,  worked  hard  at  her 
practice,  and  transacted  her  business  matters. 
"  Money  is  power,"  she  thought ;  "  I  may  want  it. 
Who  knows?  "  And  now  she  had  more  money  in 
her  own  right  than  she  could  make  use  of. 


PAULA  277 

Everything  she  did  was  mechanical,  forced,  and 
laboured,  and  beneath  a  quiet,  unmoved  exterior 
she  carried  a  heart  that  was  beating  itself  out  in  a 
blind  fury  of  rebellion.  Reeves  she  never  addressed 
nor  looked  at  except  when  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary, and  to  any  overtures  of  affection  he  made  from 
time  to  time  she  had  one  invariable  answer,  "  I 
simply  loathe  and  abhor  you,  and  shall  to  the  hour 
of  my  death  !  "  and  Reeves  shrank  before  the  con- 
centrated hatred  of  her  words  and  eyes.  He  ceased 
to  try  to  alter  the  position,  and  wrapped  himself 
up  in  his  idea  of  revenge,  and  of  spite  against 
Vincent,  making  this  console  him  for  the  silent 
meals  and  dreary  days  which  they  dragged  out  in 
each  other's  company. 

For  Paula,  life  now  was  of  an  infinitely  intensified 
bitterness  :  formerly,  in  all  her  blank  existence,  she 
had  still  felt  the  blue  sky  above  her  of  Vincent's 
protecting  sympathy  and  love ;  now  that,  too, 
frowned  upon  her.  All  the  warm  light  had  been 
quenched  out.  To  her  mental  vision  there  was  one 
same  eternal  blackness  everywhere,  stamped  over 
with  letters  of  fire :  wherever  she  looked  she  saw 
nothing,  heard  nothing,  but  his  words,  "  You  have 
done  with  me." 

She  felt  she  had  lost  him.  That  he  had  utterly 
passed  out  of  her  life,  and  would  never  seek  to 
re-enter  it ;  and  passed  out  of  it  in  anger,  anger 
against  her,  drawn  down  by  her  own  act.  "  But  I 
couldn't,  I  couldn't  do  otherwise,"  she  would  repeat 


278  PAULA 

passionately  to  herself,  as  she  lay  through  the  long, 
silent  nights.  "  Surely  he  must  understand  in  his 
heart!"  and  her  eyes,  blinded  by  burning  tears, 
would  strain  through  the  darkness,  trying  to  paint 
upon  it  his  face,  and  hold  the  vision  there,  till  the 
brain  seemed  to  rock  with  the  strain. 

So  the  long  nights  passed  in  excited  agony,  and 
the  long  days  in  forced  works.  But  nature  some- 
times weaves  a  certain  consolation  out  of  the  worst 
of  human  lives,  and  from  the  extreme  sensitiveness 
of  Paula's  brain,  that  very  sensitiveness  which  was 
an  instrument  of  torture,  to  make  all  suffering  for 
her  yet  infinitely  more  acute — from  this,  nature 
worked  for  her  a  consolation.  She  began  to 
dream  :  one  night  towards  the  morning,  wearied 
out  by  silent,  violent  crying,  she  fell  into  an  excited 
sleep,  and  suddenly  the  black  waves  of  oblivion 
rolled  apart  and  through  the  gulf  rushed  up  the 
past,  which  to  her  meant  eleven  happy  days. 
Thenceforward  she  lived  in  the  night  only. 

One  night  Reeves,  restless  and  unable  to  sleep, 
got  up  to  try  a  quiet  smoke  by  the  fire.  His  wife's 
breathing  was  gentle  and  regular,  and  moved  by  a 
sudden  impulse,  he  struck  a  vesta  and  lighted  the 
candle,  and  came  softly  to  the  side  of  the  bed  to 
look  into  her  face.  Paula  was  lying  on  her  back, 
one  lovely  arm — grown  thin  now,  but  lovely  still — 
was  tossed  above  her  head,  and  lay  deep  in  the 
pillow  amongst  the  warm  loosened  curling  hair, 
and  her  face  was  cushioned  in  the  whiteness  of  her 


PAULA  279 

arm.  Reeves  drew  back  a  little,  awestruck  at  the 
radiance  of  the  sleeping  face :  the  lips  were  parted 
slightly  and  curved  in  a  soft  smile  of  pleasure,  the 
smooth  arches  of  the  brows  had  a  transcendent 
calm,  the  whole  face  so  pale,  so  tired,  so  haggard 
clay  by  day,  was  transfigured  by  the  light  of  an 
infinite  happiness  as  it  lay  there  smiling  in  rosy 
sleep.  Reeves  drew  farther  back,  and  the  candle 
shook  in  his  trembling  hand.  This  was  not  his 
wife,  not  the  woman  he  knew;  never  in  all  the  days 
and  weeks  and  months  did  she  look  like  the  one 
who  was  sleeping  there.  The  transformation  was 
complete,  the  sweetness  and  the  joy  lay  like  light 
upon  the  features.  Where  was  she  now  ?  thought 
Reeves,  looking  down  upon  her  with  fascinated 
eyes,  and  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul  he  ground 
out  his  own  answer,  "With  Halham;"  and  whose 
wife  was  she  ?  Reeves's  teeth  chattered,  and  he 
crept  back  from  the  bed  towards  the  fire  and 
crouched  over  it  like  one  stricken  with  sudden 
illness. 

Did  he  possess  her  most  who  had  fettered  the 
reluctant  and  helpless  body,  or  the  man  who  held 
the  brilliant,  volatile  soul,  to  whom  alone  she  had 
bent  her  unbreakable  will,  and  to  whom  her  freed 
and  happy  spirit  flew  so  joyously  on  the  wings  of 
sleep?  Reeves  sat  by  the  dying  fire  in  the  silent 
room,  crushed,  humiliated  into  the  dust  by  that 
lovely  smile  on  the  sleeping  lips,  feeling  that  un- 
speakable   powerlessness,    that    sense    of    infinite 


23o  PAULA 

smallncss,  which  all  men  feel  brought  face  to 
face  with  the  majesty  of  the  individual  soul,  the 
freedom  of  the  individual  will,  that  they  have 
attempted  to  coerce.  The  soul,  the  soul,  the  un- 
conquerable, unchainable  soul,  that  is  for  ever 
free,  untouchable,  unattainable,  that  can  mock  the 
lover  and  the  torturer  though  the  body  lie  helpless 
in  their  grasp.  This  is  man's  one  single  possession 
that  none  can  rob  him  of,  nor  touch,  nor  defile. 
None  can  limit  its  movements,  nor  control,  nor 
restrain.  There  is  no  earthly  power  that  can  say 
to  it,  Thou  shalt,  and  thou  shalt  not.  Free  it 
awakes  in  the  body,  free  it  dwells  there,  free  it 
dissolves  in  the  thin  air  from  dying  lips. 

All  this,  and  an  anguished  humiliation,  pressed 
hard  upon  Reeves  now,  as  it  presses  on  each  one 
who  finds  his  fetters  aimed  at  the  soul  falling  mere 
chains  on  the  body,  and  sees  that  the  elusive,  mock- 
ing spirit  must  escape  him  to  the  end.  Stung, 
maddened  by  his  thoughts,  Reeves,  following  the 
old,  useless  impulse,  sprang  up  and  walked  over  to 
the  bed.  "  Wake  up,"  he  said  roughly,  and  seized 
the  warm  white  arm.  The  sweet  eyes  opened, 
and  the  unclosing  lids  showed,  in  the  blue  depths 
beneath,  the  most  heavenly  of  dawning  smiles ; 
suffused  still  with  sleep,  they  saw  nothing  yet  but 
the  man  from  whom  she  had  come.  Then,  as  they 
opened  wider,  consciousness  rushed  over  her  face 
like  a  grey  sea,  blotting  out  all  colour,  life,  and  joy, 
in  one  heavy  blank. 


PAULA  2S1 

Reeves  watched  it  all  and  set  his  teeth. 

"  Get  up  and  make  me  a  cup  of  tea.     I  feel  ill." 

Paula  sat  up  and  looked  at  him.  His  towering 
form,  muffled  in  a  wadded  dressing-gown,  his  thick 
throat  and  broad  face  above,  did  not  give  an 
exact  idea  of  feebleness,  nor  seem  to  demand 
acute  sympathy.  However,  Paula  made  no  re- 
mark ;  she  slipped  out  of  bed  and  thrust  two 
small,  smooth  feet  into  their  velvet  slippers,  pulled 
on  her  own  blue  flannel  dressing-gown,  and  walked 
over  to  the  side-table,  where  a  little  spirit-lamp  and 
kettle  stood  on  an  iron  tray.  The  lamp  needed 
re-trimming  and  re-filling,  and  this,  with  some  little 
trouble,  Paula  accomplished,  and  then  lighted  the 
wick.  As  she  watched  the  flame  burn,  she  took  a 
chair  by  the  table  and  leant  both  arms  upon  it. 

Reeves  had  gone  back  to  the  fire,  and  sat  there 
in  sullen  silence.  Paula  was  very  tired,  and  sat 
silent  too,  yawning,  and  watching  the  flame  with 
sleepy,  half-open  eyes.  At  last,  before  the  kettle 
had  begun  to  sing  even,  the  drowsiness  overpowered 
her,  her  head  sank  down  on  her  arms,  the  lids  fell, 
and  the  lips  took  back  their  happy  curves.  She 
had  almost  picked  up  again  the  thread  of  the 
broken  dream,  when  Reeves's  voice  came  to  her : 
"  Paula,  the  kettle's  boiling.  Gad  !  can't  you  keep 
awake  for  two  seconds  ?  " 

Paula  roused  herself  with  a  start  and  got  up. 
She  collected  the  materials  for  the  tea,  and  made 
it  and  set  the  teapot  down  in  the  grate,  Reeves 


282  PAULA 


watching  her  as  she  did  so.  Then  she  took  another 
candle  off  the  mantelpiece  and  lighted  it.  "  There's 
no  milk  and  sugar  up  here.  I  must  go  and  fetch 
them,"  she  said. 

Reeves  made  no  answer,  and  she  took  the  candle 
and  went  out.  It  was  cold  outside,  and  Paula 
shivered  as  she  hurried  down  the  stairs,  the  cold 
wind  cutting  her  bare  ankles  above  the  slippers: 
cold  too  in  the  big  dining-room  beneath.  She 
found  the  sugar  in  the  sideboard,  and  a  new  un- 
opened  tin  of  condensed  milk.  "  What  a  bore  ! " 
murmured  Paula;  "I  must  open  this  one."  She 
rose  from  her  knees  in  front  of  the  sideboard  and 
looked  in  the  drawer  for  the  tin-opener.  Then  she 
knelt  on  the  floor  again  and  began  to  open  the  tin. 
Her  hands  were  stiff  with  cold,  and  the  light  from 
the  one  flickering  candle  in  the  huge  room  was 
dim.  She  had  almost  completed  the  circle  of  the 
lid,  when  the  tin-opener  slipped  and  gashed  across 
the  hand  that  was  holding  the  tin.  The  blood 
welled  up,  and  Paula,  afraid  of  its  falling  into  the 
milk,  was  obliged  to  cease  operations.  She  picked 
up  the  tin,  flung  the  opener  back  into  the  drawer, 
and  taking  the  candle  and  sugar  in  the  other  hand, 
went  upstairs  again. 

Reeves  glanced  up.  "  What  an  infernal  time 
you've  been !  What  have  you  done?"  he  added, 
seeing  the  zigzag  cut  bleeding  on  her  left  hand. 

"Cut  it  in  opening  the  tin,  that's  all,"  returned 
Paula.     She  twisted  a  handkerchief  round  her  hand 


PAULA  283 

and  then  finished  making  the  tea.  In  a  few  seconds 
more  she  came  up  to  Reeves  on  the  rug,  carrying 
a  steaming,  fragrant  cup,  and  held  it  out  to  him. 
Reeves  looked  up.  His  pallid,  sodden  face  looked 
positively  green  as  he  raised  it  to  her.  Then  he 
closed  his  fist  suddenly  and  struck  the  whole  thing 
out  of  her  hand. 

"  Damn  you  !  do  you  suppose  I  want  your  beastly 
tea?"  The  cup  and  saucer  fell  clattering  and 
tinkling  to  the  floor,  and  broke  into  fragments  at 
her  feet.  The  steaming  liquid  splashed  across  her 
wounded  hand  and  poured  in  a  stream  down  the 
front  of  her  dressing-gown.  Paula  fell  back  from 
him  a  step  or  two  and  looked  at  him  with  eyes 
growing  wide  in  indignation  and  a  hard  scorn 
settling  on  her  white  face. 

"  Why  did  you  ask  for  it  then  ?  "  she  said  con- 
temptuously. 

Reeves  got  up  and  approached  her.  Paula  did 
not  retreat.  Nothing  but  intense  disdain  and 
loathing  looked  out  of  her  flashing  eyes.  "  I  woke 
you  up,  and  made  you  get  up,  because  you  were 
dreaming  of  that  cursed   Halham  ;    I   know   you 


were." 


Paula  burst  into  a  contemptuous  laugh.  "  Well, 
what  then  ?  Arc  you  going  to  try  to  control  my 
dreams  ? "  Reeves  was  silent.  In  silence  they 
both  stood  looking  at  each  other,  their  eyes  fixed 
on  one  another's.  In  hers  were  a  supreme  con- 
fidence  and    defiance,   in    his    a    hungry,  helpless 


284  PAULA 

jealousy.  He  looked  over  her  slender  and  graceful 
frame,  built  for  beauty  and  love  and  pleasure,  and 
not  for  strength,  yet  a  sense  of  his  own  utter 
powcrlessncss  rushed  over  him.  If  he  tore  this  in 
pieces,  he  could  not  reach  the  scornful  soul  that 
blazed  upon  him  through  those  eyes. 

After  a  second  or  two  Paula  turned  from  him 
and  sat  down  in  an  easy-chair  by  the  side  of  the 
fire  :  Reeves  took  the  one  opposite  to  her.  Neither 
spoke.  After  a  time  the  girl's  head  dropped  back 
on  the  chair  cushion,  and  her  eyes  closed.  Reeves 
watched  her  vindictively  for  a  few  moments,  and 
then  raised  the  tongs  from  the  grate  and  flung 
them  across  the  bars,  whence  they  fell  into  the 
fender  with  a  tremendous  clatter.  Paula  started 
and  sat  up. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Reeves,  mockingly. 
Paula  knew  that  the  tongs  had  been  thrown,  and 
said  nothing.  She  saw  that  he  did  not  mean  to 
let  her  go  to  sleep  for  some  time.  It  was  all  very 
childish  and  foolish,  she  thought ;  but,  anyway,  she 
could  think  if  she  could  not  dream.  She  sat  up, 
leaning  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  yawning  and 
rubbing  her  tired  eyes  as  she  stared  into  the  fire. 
Between  them,  on  the  floor,  lay  the  broken  cup, 
and  the  tea  soaking  into  the  rug.  Her  thoughts 
went  over  the  many  times  she  had  made  coffee  for 
Vincent,  and  what  a  delight  it  had  always  been  to 
attain  with  care  just  the  right  degree  of  strength, 
and  with  what  a   smile  he   had    always    taken  it, 


PAULA  285 

weak  or  strong,  or  smoked  so  that  he  could  hardly 
drink  it;  for  it  would  get  smoked  with  that  spirit- 
lamp  of  theirs,  sometimes,  and 

"  Paula ! " 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of?  " 

"Of  how  one  makes  coffee." 

To  this  Reeves  made  no  response.  Pie  simply 
kicked  the  poker  into  the  grate  as  he  stretched 
out  his  feet  and  sat  farther  back  in  his  chair.  It 
was  cold  and  he  felt  himself  growing  sleepy,  and 
took  a  cigar  to  keep  himself  awake.  As  Paula 
rarely  answered  in  anything  except  monosyllables, 
he  had  got  out  of  the  habit  of  talking  with  her, 
and  conversation  was  a  lost  art  between  them. 
Paula  watched  him  settle  himself  comfortably  in 
the  chair  and  put  his  head  back ;  she  saw  he  was 
getting  very  sleepy,  then  she  went  back  to  her 
thoughts :  when  she  next  looked  at  him  his  eye- 
lids had  fallen  over  his  eyes,  but  he  still  smoked ; 
a  few  seconds  later  the  cigar  dropped  out  of  his 
mouth  and  his  chin  sank  forward  on  his  chest. 
He  was  asleep.  Paula  smiled,  got  up,  slid  out  of 
her  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  and  got  into  bed. 
There  she  stretched  out  her  arms,  smiled  a  freed, 
happy  smile,  and  with  a  little  sigh  of  contentment 
drifted  back  to  her  dreams. 

Reeves,  still  impressed  with  the  fancy  he  was 
mounting  guard  over  her,  slept  on  in  an  un- 
comfortable position  by  the  dying  fire. 


XV 


One  afternoon  early  in  January,  Paula  coming  in 
late  found  Reeves  seated  hunched  over  the  fire 
with  flushed  face  and  bright  eyes.  "What's  the 
matter  ? "  she  asked,  as  she  stood  by  the  mantel- 
piece taking  off  her  veil  before  the  glass. 

"  Got  a  confounded  throat,"  muttered  Reeves 
thickly  in  a  scarcely  audible  tone. 

Paula  looked  at  him  closely.  "  You  were  all 
right  this  morning ;  what  have  you  done  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Got  a  chill,  I  think;  it's  so  beastly  cold." 

"Yes,  it  is  cold,"  returned  Paula,  looking  through 
the  windows,  following  with  her  eyes  the  great 
irregular  patches  of  snow  descending  through  the 
leaden  atmosphere  from  the  leaden  sky.  It  was 
cold.  Even  in  their  firelit  room  they  felt  it.  The 
cold  forced  itself,  an  invincible  enemy,  through  the 
curtained  windows.  Paula  shivered.  Something 
seemed  passing  through  the  dusky  room.  She 
turned  and  lit  the  gas  herself,  and  pulled  the  blinds 
down  sharply.     Then  she  looked  at  Reeves  again. 


PAULA  287 

"  Hadn't  you  better  see  a  doctor  ?  "  she  said  in  a 
constrained  voice. 

Reeves  turned  and  glared  at  her  out  of  red, 
vitreous  eyes.  "  No;  what  damned  rot!  I'm  coming 
down  to  the  theatre  !  " 

Paula  did  not  answer.  She  shrugged  her  shoulders 
and  left  the  room  in  silence.  Upstairs  in  the  cold 
bedroom,  which  was  nearly  dark,  she  threw  herself 
suddenly  on  her  knees  by  the  bed  and  clasped  her 
hands.  "  My  God  ! ''  she  murmured,  "  he  is  ill,  going 
to  be  perhaps  very  ill,  give  me  strength  not  to  wish, 
not  to  pray  that  he  may  die.  Help  me  to  do  every- 
thing to  save  him  :  he  is  a  fellow-creature.  Oh, 
thou  who  hast  done  so  much,  give  me  strength  not 
to  wish  for  his  death  ! "  She  knelt  with  bent  head  : 
there  was  no  answer  in  the  gloom  of  the  quiet 
room,  but  from  intense  prayer  there  flows  a  calm 
as  from  our  intense  desires.     It  is  its  own  answer. 

After  a  few  seconds  Paula  rose,  with  the  stress 
of  passion  passed  by,  and  dressed  composedly  and 
went  downstairs.  Reeves  had  not  stirred,  but 
still,  with  his  great  fur  coat  on,  sat  cowering  over 
the  fire.  Dinner  was  brought  up,  but  he  would 
not  move  to  the  table.  Paula  had  hers  alone,  and 
then  silently  put  on  her  cloak  and  came  back  to 
the  drawing-room.  Here  she  stood  waiting,  draw- 
ing on  her  gloves  and  buttoning  them.  Reeves 
did  not  stir.  At  last,  when  the  clock  allowed 
no  further  latitude,  she  said,  "Are  you  coming, 
Dick?" 


28S  PAULA 

"  Damn  it !  how  can  I  come  ?  Can't  you  see 
I'm  too  ill?"  he  answered,  with  his  hand  at  his 
throat. 

"Shall  I  stay?"  asked  Paula;  "  there's  still  time 
to  send  round  to  May?" 

"  No;  for  God's  sake,  go  and  leave  me  in  peace!" 

Paula  went  out  in  silence,  closing  the  door  softly 
behind  her.  That  night  on  the  boards  the  old 
spirit  came  back  to  her,  the  old  life  ran  through 
her,  leaping  and  racing  through  her  veins.  Do 
what  she  would  she  could  not  check  it.  "  Am  I 
glad  ?  "  she  asked  herself.  And  it  seemed  to  her, 
with  her  soft  heart,  cruel  to  be  glad.  But  some  new 
animation  thrilled  and  fired  her  blood  that  night. 
The  stalls  lisped  languidly  she'd  never  been  in 
better  form,  and  the  gallery  yelled  and  roared  in  its 
delight  The  Arabian  dance  was  encored  more 
wildly  than  usual,  and  for  the  first  time  Paula 
yielded  and  granted  the  encore.  Did  something 
whisper  to  her  she  would  never  dance  again  ?  The 
supple  body,  whose  movements  were  like  melodies, 
responded  untiringly  to  the  will  to-night.  She 
would  have  liked  to  dance  on  till  she  fell  dead 
from  the  delicious  fatigue  of  it.  Afterwards  people 
said  she  had  never  danced  as  on  the  first  and  last 
night  of  her  appearance. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  Paula  was  suddenly 
awakened.  "  Paula  !  "  It  was  Reeves's  voice  that 
came  hollow  and  deep  to  her  ear.  She  started  up. 
"  Listen,"   he   said,   and   he    drew   a   deep  breath. 


PAULA  289 

From  his  chest  came  a  loud,  creaking  wheeze.  It 
went  through  the  silent  room  like  the  whizz  of  a 
vibrating  string  and  the  creaking  of  a  cart-wheel. 
"  I  am  very  ill ;  send  for  a  doctor."  His  voice  was 
loosened  and  clear  now,  and  shook  with  fear ;  he 
cowered  down,  making  a  huge,  trembling  heap 
beneath  the  bed-clothes.  Paula  was  on  her  feet 
in  a  moment. 

"  James  is  so  slow,  I'll  go  myself,"  she  said, 
lighting  a  candle,  and  then  commencing  to  hur- 
riedly put  on  her  shoes  and  stockings. 

"  Yes,  go  yourself;  only  be  quick,"  muttered 
Reeves  from  the  bed,  as  if  death  would  be  upon 
him  in  the  next  five  minutes.  It  was  a  freezing 
night.  Paula's  fingers  grew  so  cold,  even  in  the 
room,  that  she  could  hardly  get  her  clothes  on. 
"Be  quick,"  Reeves  kept  groaning  from  the  bed, 
and  in  less  than  five  minutes  Paula  slipped  out  of 
the  room,  dressed  and  wrapped  in  a  sealskin  cloak, 
and  with  a  fur  hat  on  her  hastily  coiled-up  hair. 
She  roused  their  maidservant  as  she  went  down, 
and  then  let  herself  out  into  the  snowy  night. 

It  was  just  three:  a  bell  tolled  out  the  strokes 
as  she  stepped  on  to  the  frozen  pavement.  The 
night  was  superb.  With  a  temperature  many 
degrees  below  zero,  the  air  was  flooded  with  a 
glory  of  moonlight,  making  the  deserted  streets 
brilliant  in  their  snowy  desolation.  Paula  knew 
her  way  to  the  doctor's,  and  walked  on  rapidly. 
Overhead,  far,  far  off,  unusually  high  it  seemed  in 

19 


290  PAULA 

the  clear  atmosphere,  hung  the  moon  in  its  cold, 
lonely  splendour.  Paula  glanced  up,  and  won- 
dered with  wild  vehement  questioning  whether 
that  same  moon  were  shining  now  on  Vincent. 
Where  was  he  ?     Where  was  he  ? 

She  reached  the  doctor's  house  in  a  few  minutes 
and  rang  the  night-bell  beneath  the  red  lamp,  and 
waited  on  the  steps  thick  in  deep  snow,  looking 
up  with  blurred,  tear-filled  eyes  to  the  marvellous 
glory  of  the  sky.  After  a  time  a  servant  came 
yawning  to  the  door.  "  Tell  Dr.  Anderson,"  said 
Paula  as  she  entered,  "  Mrs.  Reeves  is  here,  and 
wants  him  to  come  back  to  her  husband  at  once." 
The  servant  closed  the  door  and  showed  Paula 
into  a  large  dining-room,  lit  one  burner  of  the  gas, 
and  withdrew.  Paula  found  her  way  to  the  sofa 
in  the  dim  light,  and  sat  down  there  amongst  the 
shadows  cast  by  the  large  furniture. 

"  Suppose  he  dies  ?  "  She  tried  to  shut  her  ears 
to  the  words,  tried  to  throw  them  out  of  her  brain, 
but  they  seemed  said  outside  herself — shouted 
down  from  the  ceiling  and  by  the  shadows  at  her 
side.  "  You  are  free,  you  are  free,"  and  devils 
seemed  running  over  the  room,  gambolling  and 
laughing,  and  saying,  "  You  are  free." 

Anderson  did  not  keep  her  long.  lie  hurried 
on  his  clothes  and  came  down  almost  within  the 
five  minutes  she  had  taken  for  herself.  He  gave 
her  his  arm  as  they  walked  back  together,  and 
Paula  told  him  the  details  of  her  husband's  illness. 


PAULA  291 

"  I  have  a  feeling  it  is  serious.  I  can't  tell  quite 
why,"  she  said,  as  they  went  up  to  Reeves's  room 
together.  Reeves  was  breathing  heavily  as  they 
entered,  and  the  wheezing  of  the  lungs  could  be 
heard  distinctly  in  the  quiet  room. 

"  What  a  damned  time  you've  been  ! "  he  mur- 
mured fretfully.  "  Ah,  Anderson,  there  you  are  ! 
what  the  devil's  the  matter  with  me,  eh  ? " 

Paula  stirred  the  fire  that  the  maid  had  lighted 
in  her  absence,  and  sat  down  by  it  in  her  outdoor 
things,  while  the  doctor  went  up  to  the  bed  and 
examined  the  crackling  lungs.  When  he  came 
over  to  her  afterwards  he  made  some  excuse  of 
writing  the  prescriptions,  and  they  went  down  to 
the  drawing-room  together.  There  he  told  her 
Reeves  was  in  serious  danger,  had  severe  con- 
gestion of  both  lungs,  and  would  need  the  most 
careful  nursing.  "  Let  me  send  you  a  trained 
nurse,"  he  added  sympathetically. 

"  No,"  said  Paula,  simply ;  "  I  will  nurse  him. 
I  don't  believe  in  hired  nurses.  Experience  cannot 
teach  them  so  much  as  real  anxiety  for  the  patient 
does." 

"  But  it's  impossible  !  You  could  not  attend  the 
theatre  !  " 

"  The  theatre  must  go;  that  is  to  say,  my  under- 
study must,"  Paula  answered,  smiling.  "  I  shall 
not  leave  him  till  I've  got  him  well." 

The  doctor  wasted  no  time  in  further  opposition. 
He  stood  explaining  and  directing  all  that  had  to 


2Q2  PAULA 

be  done,  and  Faula  stood  before  him  listening,  with 
her  intelligent  face  raised  to  his  and  her  eyes  wide 
with  attention.  "  And  above  all  things,  be  careful 
with  the  chlorodyne,"  he  finished ;  "one  drop  more  of 
that  than  the  dose  might  be  fatal  to  him  in  his  state." 
Then  he  buttoned  his  overcoat,  said  he'd  call  in  the 
morning,  wished  her  good-night,  and  departed. 

Paula  remained  standing  motionless  in  the  vast 
empty  room,  the  candle  on  the  table  sending  its 
flickering  glare  over  her  face.  It  was  white  now, 
in  a  terrible,  startled  pallor.  The  doctor's  last 
words  seemed  still  beating  through  the  air  in  great 
throbbing  reverberations.  A  great  temptation,  like 
a  huge  beast  of  prey,  leapt  upon  her  suddenly,  and 
held  her  paralysed  and  quivering  in  its  fangs.  A 
torrent  of  thoughts  rushed  through  her  brain.  She 
was  hardly  responsible  for  them  ;  they  tore  madly 
through  her  brain  without  her  will,  without  her 
knowing  whence  they  came,  as  shooting  pains  dart 
through  the  body.  She  had  his  life  in  her  hands, 
then  ;  a  sudden  quiver  of  her  fingers  as  she  poured 
out  the  chlorodyne,  a  few  drops  extra  jerked  into 
the  glass,  and  she  was  free.  No  one  could  tell  her 
simulated  grief  afterwards  from  inconsolable  sor- 
row. There  was  no  danger  for  herself,  no  risk. 
A  turn  of  her  wrist,  and  her  liberty  was  regained. 
Life,  a  sweet,  shimmering  vision,  tremulous  with 
love  and  joy,  sparkling  with  sunlight,  beckoned 
and  called  her. 

She  sank  into  a  chair  and  laid  her  head  down  on 


PAULA  293 

the  table,  and  stretched  out  her  arms  on  its  hard 
black  surface  in  a  sudden  agony.  And  her  temp- 
tation came  and  played  with  her.  The  great  beast 
slunk  to  her  side  again,  and  first  one  heavy  paw 
seemed  laid  upon  her  and  then  another;  it  fawned 
upon  her  and  mauled  her  as  a  tiger  mauls  its  prey. 
The  poor  bleeding,  gasping  soul  turned  blindly  to 
its  idea  of  God,  and  called  for  aid,  and  there  was 
none.  Then  suddenly  the  eyes  of  Vincent  came 
before  her,  the  touch  of  his  hand  was  on  hers,  his 
voice  in  her  ears.  She  remembered  how  close 
their  union  had  been,  that  sacred  union,  that 
perfect  fusion  of  two  souls,  when  thought  seems  to 
pass  and  repass  without  the  need  of  speech.  There 
were  no  recesses  of  her  mind  shut  against  him,  no 
thoughts  before  which  she  drew  a  veil,  to  him. 
The  doors  of  her  soul  stood  always  open  for  him. 
No  impulses  crossed  the  threshold  which  she 
feared  his  meeting.  And  now  her  sanctuary  was 
crowded,  trampled  over  with  red-stained  thoughts, 
to  which  she  would  not  give  the  name.  A  horrible 
sick  loathing  of  herself  and  them  crept  over  her. 
Slowly  she  wrestled  herself  free  from  the  tempta- 
tion and  looked  up  with  a  little  smile  on  her  lips. 
She  thought  she  still  saw  the  eyes  she  loved 
watching  her.  The  table  where  she  had  raised  her 
forehead  from  its  surface  was  dull  and  damp  with 
the  sweat  of  pain  and  shame. 

A  furious  banging  on  the  ceiling  overhead  echoed 
through  the  room.     Paula  started  and  glanced  at 


294  PAULA 

the  clock  face.  Only  five  minutes  since  the  doctor 
had  left.  And  what  a  sea  of  emotion  had  swept 
over  her  in  that  time — swept  over  and  gone  by! 
She  picked  up  the  candle  and  went  upstairs. 
Reeves  was  sitting  up  in  bed,  glaring  angrily,  the 
stick  he  had  thumped  upon  the  floor  with  still 
clutched  in  his  hand.  "  Why  didn't  you  come  up 
before?"  he  said  angrily;  "  I  heard  the  doctor  go 
almost  directly.  I  want  that  chlorodyne ;  my 
chest  feels  like  iron." 

Paula  moved  mechanically  towards  the  mantel- 
piece and  took  down  the  bottle  and  a  glass.  She 
unscrewed  the  cork  and  rested  the  bottle  neck  on 
the  edge  of  the  tumbler  -  .  one  .  .  two  .  .  - 
nine  drops  had  fallen. 

"  Damn  you,  what  a  time  you  are  !  what  are  you 
doing?"  called  Reeves  from  the  bed.  He  had 
lain  back  and  could  not  see  her  now. 

His  exclamation  startled  her :  her  hand  shook, 
and  three  drops  fell  hurriedly  into  the  glass.  It 
was  two  more  than  the  dose.  Paula  took  up  the 
tumbler  with  her  other  hand  and  flung  the  contents 
into  the  fire.  "  I  wish  you  would  be  quiet  while  I 
am  measuring  it,"  she  said,  taking  a  clean  glass ; 
"you  make  me  nervous,  and  my  hand  shakes  so 
that  I  can't  do  it  correctly." 

"Oh,  it  doesn't  matter  to  a  drop,"  grumbled 
Reeves,  tossing  in  the  bed. 

Paula  said  nothing.  She  brought  him  the  wine- 
glass with  ten  drops  accurately  measured,  in  silence. 


PAULA  295 

"Didn't  Anderson  say  I  was  to  have  a  nurse? 
When's  she  coming  ? "  said  Reeves,  after  he  had 
taken  the  dose. 

"  I  told  him  there  was  no  need,"  returned  Paula, 
"as  I  am  here." 

"Oh!"  ejaculated  Reeves  simply. 

"  I  will  get  you  a  nurse  if  you  would  like  it 
better,"  said  Paula,  sitting  down  in  the  arm-chair 
by  the  bed  and  passing  her  hand  across  her  fore- 
head. She  felt  tired  and  weak  and  ill  and  sick 
with  the  despair  of  her  life. 

"Of  course  I  shouldn't,"  answered  Reeves. 
"Who  could  be  better  than  Paula?" 

The  girl  smiled  faintly.  After  a  time  Reeves 
dozed  into  an  uneasy  slumber,  and  his  wife  sat 
watching  him. 


XVI 

A  HOT  fire  glowed  in  the  grate,  staining  the  light 
hearth-rug  a  deep  crimson,  and  throwing  a  blood-red 
light  on  Paula's  hands  and  the  under  part  of  her 
white  throat, as  she  sat  drooping  sideways  in  the  arm- 
chair by  the  grate  in  Reeves's  bedroom.  She  was 
very  tired,  and  her  lids  kept  creeping  down  slowly 
over  her  bloodshot  eyes  as  she  sat,  and  then  before 
they  quite  closed  she  would  tear  them  open  again 
with  a  guilty  start.  The  room  was  very  silent. 
Nothing  but  a  very  faint  ticking  of  the  clock  and 
the  breathing  of  the  sleeper  in  the  bed  broke  the 
stillness.  Outside  the  snow  was  falling  heavily, 
and  had  been  for  many  hours.  It  was  now  the 
first  hour  of  the  new  day.  Paula  roused  herself 
and  leant  forward  to  the  fire.  It  was  a  very  white, 
worn,  haggard  face  that  the  red  light  tinged,  and 
deep  lines  were  drawn  on  it,  though  she  was  barely 
past  six-and-twenty.  She  listened  to  the  light, 
regular  breathing  from  the  bed  intently.  Yes,  he 
was  better,  distinctly,  and  the  doctor  had  said  there 
was  no  doubt  he  would  live  now. 

200 


PAULA  297 

An  utter  dreary  hopelessness  that  had  none  of 
the  old  rebellious  passion  in  it  took  possession  of 
her  face.  It  was  the  fifth  day  of  Reeves's  illness, 
and  for  all  that  time  his  wife  had  never  left  his  bed- 
side. The  outside  world  seemed  almost  to  her  to 
have  ceased  to  exist,  so  intently  had  all  her  energies 
and  all  her  thoughts  been  concentrated  here.  For 
all  that  time  Reeves  had  been  in  serious  danger 
and  hourly  suffering  and  pain,  and  Paula  had  felt,  to 
her  joy  and  relief,  a  tide  of  sympathy  and  pity 
rising  in  her  heart  that  swept  away  all  other  feel- 
ings before  it.  She  had  no  need  to  coerce  herself. 
He  was  now  a  suffering  fellow-creature,  and  as  such 
appealed  to  her.  So  long  as  his  danger  lasted  she 
felt  nothing  but  the  spontaneous  generous  desire  to 
shield  him  from  it,  but  now  the  danger  was  past, 
and  the  first  thankfulness  over,  a  dead  weight 
seemed  falling  back  on  her  heart.  She,  as  the 
doctor  had  said,  had  saved  him. 

Slowly  the  realisation  came  to  her  as  she  sat 
there  :  she  was  not  glad — she  wanted  to  be,  but 
she  could  not.  She  could  not  shake  from  her 
the  thought  that  it  was  her  jailor  she  had  succeeded 
in  bringing  back  to  life.  Her  prison  gates  were 
being  barred  up  again,  her  warder  coming  back  to 
his  post.  The  girl  leant  forward,  on  her  bowed 
shoulders  seemed  to  fall  a  crushing  burden,  in  her 
breast  was  a  fierce  tearing  struggle,  in  her  brain 
a  wearied,  despairing  questioning.  What  is  right  ? 
She  listened  to  the  light  breathing :  that  man  for 


29S  PAULA 

whose  life  she  had  been  working  for  the  past  five 
days,  to  whom  she  had  been  giving  her  tenderness 
and  sympathy,  was  Vincent's  would-be  murderer, 
the  one  who  had  stolen  her  from  him,  who  would 
have  taken  his  life,  who  had  succeeded  perhaps  in 
blighting  it. 

And  who  was  the  man  ethically  to  whom  she 
owed  the  most — the  man  to  whom  she  had  first 
given  her  soul,  who  had  loved  her,  always  yielded 
to  her,  suffered  for  her,  who  would  have  shielded 
her,  died  for  her;  or  this  man  who  had  destroyed 
her  life,  destroyed  her  happiness,  destroyed  her 
better  self?  It  seemed  suddenly  unjust  to  her  that 
she  had  sided  with  his  enemy  against  the  man  she 
loved.  The  image  of  Vincent's  face  rose  before 
her  in  the  dull  red  glow  of  the  coals,  tender,  and 
kind,  and  sad.  She  looked  at  it.  "  He  would  have 
killed  you,"  she  murmured;  "but  yet,  here,  now, 
you  would  not  have  liked  me  to  become  a  mur- 
deress, even  in  heart,  Vincent,  would  you  ?  "  She 
saw  the  face  clearly,  and  it  seemed  to  smile 
approval  to  her.  There  seemed  to  grow  within 
her  a  sense  of  the  great  general  law  that  overrides 
all  personal  enmities,  all  individual  loves — the 
law  of  humanity. 

A  cough  from  the  bed,  and  Reeves  flung  back 
the  counterpane.  "  I  want  more  air :  how  hot  the 
room  is ! " 

Paula  started  up.  "  I'll  put  the  door  open,"  she 
said.     "  Don't  get  uncovered." 


PAULA  299 

"Door?  Door's  no  good:  put  the  window 
open." 

"  Oh,  Dick,  it's  impossible,"  said  Paula,  in  dismay. 
"  It  will  kill  you.     It  is  bitterly  cold  outside." 

"  I'm  suffocated,  I  tell  you,"  said  Reeves,  sitting 
up  in  bed.  "  You've  got  the  room  too  hot ;  open 
the  window." 

"  I  can  let  the  fire  go  down.  You  must  not 
have  the  window  open,"  said  Paula,  "  it  may  kill 
you." 

"  Well,  and  very  glad  I  expect  you'd  be  if  it 
did,"  said  Reeves,  preparing  to  scramble  out  of  bed. 
It  was  pitiful  to  see  how  he  had  wasted  in  those 
five  days.  The  skin  at  his  throat  hung  loose  in 
great  wrinkles.  His  chest,  as  the  shirt  fell  open, 
showed  the  great  bones  under  the  clammy  skin. 
Paula  saw  the  sweat  glistening  on  it  in  the  candle- 
light. She  crossed  to  the  window  and  barred  his 
approach  to  it. 

"  Dick,  you  arc  mad  !  "  said  Paula,  standing  with 
her  back  to  the  window,  and  holding  the  curtains 
together  behind  her.     "  This  is  simple  suicide." 

"  You  don't — know  what  it  is  to  feel — choked," 
gasped  Reeves.  He  stood  supporting  himself 
by  the  bedpost.  He  seemed  unable  for  the  mo- 
ment to  cough  or  speak  or  even  breathe.  His 
face  turned  to  a  livid  pallor.  "The  medicine,"  he 
gasped. 

Paula  flew  to  the  mantelpiece  to  get  the  bottle. 
Reeves  staggered  to  the  window,  wrenched  aside 


300  PAULA 

the  curtains,  sent  up  the  spring-blind,  and,  before 
Paula  could  reach  him  again,  had  smashed  out  a 
piece  of  one  of  the  lower  panes  with  one  of  the 
brushes  from  the  toilet-table.  Then  he  leaned 
forward,  drawing  in  the  icy  air  with  delight.  The 
jagged  hole  gaped  to  the  blackness  outside.  The 
snow  was  falling  quickly ;  a  few  soft  flakes  came 
gently  whirling  in,  and  rested  unmelting  on  the 
window-ledge.  Paula  came  up  to  him  despairingly. 
Five  days'  work  undone  in  five  seconds.  She 
caught  a  shawl  off  the  bed  and  threw  it  round 
his  shoulders  and  crossed  it  over  his  bare  chest. 
Reeves  began  to  cough. 

"Ah,  that's  better,"  he  said,  and  coughed  vio- 
lently. He  felt  he  could  breathe  again.  "  That's 
done  me  a  lot  of  good.  I  believe  you  wanted  to 
smother  me,  Polly." 

Paula  smiled  a  very  sad  smile.  "  Pray,  pray, 
come  away,"  was  all  she  said. 

Reeves  coughed  again,  drawing  in  more  cold  air. 
"  You  don't  know  how  much  better  it  makes  me 
feel,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  it  may  for  a  few  minutes  ;  but  it  is  death, 
I  know  it  is.  Do  listen  to  me,"  said  Paula,  wring- 
ing her  hands.  The  snowflakes  were  coming  in  fast 
now,  one  or  two  fell  and  rested  softly  on  Reeves's 
damp,  rough  hair.     He  began  to  shiver. 

"Yes,  it  is  cold;  perhaps  you're  right.  I'll  get 
back  to  bed,  I  think."  He  rose,  and  Paula  helped 
him   back  to  the  bed.     As  he  lay  clown  and  she 


PAULA  301 

stooped  over  him  to  arrange  the  clothes,  she  heard 
the  deep  jarring  of  the  breath  through  the  harden- 
ing lungs.  All  night  she  watched  him,  and  all 
night  he  tossed  and  moaned  and  swore  at  her  for 
not  preventing  his  going  to  the  window.  In  the 
morning  he  lay  back  amongst  the  pillows  almost 
speechless,  and  the  effort  to  breathe  made  his  face 
and  hair  damp  with  sweat. 

When  the  doctor  came  he  looked  from  the  livid 
face  in  the  bed  to  the  blanched  one  beside  it  in 
blank  inquiry.  Paula  told  him  mechanically  the 
events  of  the  night  in  a  thin  strained  voice.  She 
felt  a  dim  sense  now  of  drifting  on  the  current  of 
events.  Her  work  had  been  taken  out  of  her 
hands.  The  doctor  said  nothing.  His  face  took 
an  extra  shade  on  its  professional  gravity.  He 
tested  his  patient's  chest,  prescribed  a  soothing 
draught,  and  ordered  a  blister  to  be  put  over  the 
left  lung.  Downstairs  he  said  to  Paula,  "  The 
case  is  quite  hopeless  now,  I'm  afraid.  The  lungs 
are  almost  solid.  Yesterday  they  were  pretty 
clear,  in  fact  he  was  mending  fast." 

"  I  tried  to  prevent  his  going  to  the  window," 
murmured  Paula.     The  doctor  pressed  her  hand. 

"  I  am  sure  that  you  have  done  all  that  was 
possible,"  he  said,  sympathetically.  "These  things 
are  in  higher  hands  than  ours.  I  will  come  again 
in  the  evening,"  and  he  left.  But  he  came  back 
before  the  evening,  haunted  by  Paula's  wide,  burn- 
ing, tearless  eyes. 


302  PAULA 

It  was  the  dusk  of  the  closing  afternoon.  Paula 
sat  motionless  by  the  bed  as  the  struggling  breath 
came  and  went  with  difficulty.  There  was  nothing 
to  do  now  except  to  wait.  Uncertainty,  ex- 
pectancy, were  put  by.  Hope  was  done  with. 
Paula  sat  there,  with  her  hands  idle  in  her  lap, 
her  mind  a  blank.  She  had  struggled  and  fought 
with  herself,  and  forced  herself  to  do  what  she 
could  to  save  him,  in  the  teeth  of  her  own  desires ; 
and  now  Fate  had  intervened  and  rendered  her 
efforts  null,  and  there  was  nothing  she  could  do. 
She  had  hardly  any  sense  of  desire  or  gratitude  or 
relief  or  regret.  She  felt  crushed  beneath  a  dull 
horror  of  depression.  She  could  do  no  more. 
What  would  be  would  be.  She  had  now  merely 
to  await  the  approach  of  death.  The  doctor  stood 
by  the  fire,  his  eyes  fixed  anxiously  on  the  dying 
man.  The  end  could  not  be  far  off.  Each  breath 
was  thicker,  more  laboured  than  the  last,  and  he 
waited  more  from  sympathy  with  the  bowed  figure 
by  the  bedside  than  from  interest  in  his  patient. 

"  Paula  " — Reeves's  voice  came  feebly  from  the 
pillow.  The  girl  staggered  to  her  feet  and  stood 
beside  the  bed, — "  Pm  dying,  and  I  expect  you're 
— deuced  glad — aren't  you?"  His  voice  was 
uncertain  and  came  with  difficulty.  He  looked 
straight  up  into  the  pale,  wretched  face  above  him, 
with  eyes  that  struggled  painfully  to  see  clearly 
through  their  gathering  mists.  Paula  looked  down 
on  the  drawn  countenance,  rapidly  growing  grey, 


PAULA  303 

and    burst   into  a   passion  of  sobs  and   agonised 
tears. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  I  am  not  glad.  I  would  save  you 
now  if  I  could,  Dick."  It  was  true.  She  had 
absolutely  conquered  herself.  Reeves  was  to  her 
now  not  husband  nor  jailor,  nor  the  murderer  of 
her  lover,  simply  a  fellow-creature  calling  to  her 
from  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow. 

"  Well — any  way,"  said  Reeves,  after  a  minute, 
in  which  her  great  sobs  went  through  the  room, 
"  I — suppose — you'll  go  and  live  with  that  cursed 
Vincent  now?"  His  voice  was  an  anxious  query: 
he  waited  for  her  answer  while  the  hot  tears 
dropped  burning  on  his  hand. 

"  Oh — I  don't  know — what  will  happen,"  Paula 
answered  in  distraction.  To  her  they  both  seemed 
standing  in  the  shadow.  The  shores  of  life  seemed 
far  away.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to  calculate 
and  arrange  for  the  future  then,  even  to  think  of 
possibilities. 

"  Well,  listen,"  said  Reeves  with  a  great  effort : 
"  I  have  left  you  everything.  All  my  funds,  the 
theatre  freehold,  everything  to  you,  so  long  as  you 
remain  a  widow,  or  even  if  you  choose  to  marry 
some  one  else,  but  not  him.  If  you  live  with  him  or 
marry  him,  you  lose  everything,  do  you  under- 
stand ?  you  get  nothing  from  me."  He  raised 
himself  a  little  in  his  eagerness.  The  old  bitter 
hate  shone  deep  in  his  eyes  beneath  their  glazing, 
clouded  cornea. 


304  PAULA 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't,"  said  Paula,  the  tears  stream- 
ing down  her  worn,  unhappy  face.  "  I  want 
nothing." 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  it  will  make  any  differ- 
ence," returned  Reeves,  bitterly;  "he'll  get  you 
back  now.  Anyway,  you've  been  mine — put  your 
head  down — kiss  me." 

Paula  bent  down  and  set  her  quivering  lips  on 
his.  Reeves  tried  to  raise  his  arms  and  put  them 
round  her.  There  was  a  choking  sound,  and  then 
a  sudden  scream  from  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  come,  he  has  broken  a  blood-vessel." 

The  doctor  rushed  to  the  bed.  Reeves  sat  up 
waving  his  arms;  his  face  was  livid,  the  blood 
poured  in  a  crimson  stream  from  his  mouth.  The 
doctor  drew  Paula  from  the  bed  and  out  of  the 
darkening  room.  Reeves's  eyes  were  still  fixed 
on  her.  The  last  she  saw  were  those  two  dim 
hungry  eyes. 


XVII 

REEVES  had  been  dead  a  fortnight — a  fortnight 
that  had  been  one  blank  of  horror  for  Paula.  For 
the  first  week  she  had  sat,  loaded  with  the  black 
crepe  her  maid  had  hung  upon  her,  in  her  drawing- 
room  with  the  blinds  lowered  to  the  floor,  motion- 
less, in  the  semi-darkness.  Callers  came  in  large 
numbers,  friends  of  Reeves,  friends  of  hers,  friends 
of  both,  besides  all  those  who  came  to  see  how 
"she  took  it."  To  a  great  many  Paula  refused 
admission.  Those  whom  she  did  see  went  away 
quite  satisfied,  however.  "  Stupefied  with  grief, 
my  dear,  quite  stupefied,"  was  the  current  remark 
made  with  much  satisfaction  by  her  woman  friends 
to  each  other  as  they  discussed  her  and  sympatheti- 
cally deplored  her  loss  at  their  four  o'clock  teas. 
Her  enemies  and  rivals  frankly  and  openly  declared, 
"  It  was  all  put  on,  and  affectation,  and  that  they 
had  no  patience  themselves  with  such  hypocrisy." 

Widely  removed  from  the  fact,  as  usual,  were 
these  two  verdicts.  Paula  was  too  careless  and 
reckless  by  nature,  and  too  arrogant  in  feeling,  ever 

305  20 


306  PAULA 

to  take  the  trouble  to  simulate  an  emotion  she 
did  not  feel.  With  such  a  character  the  only 
difficulty  is  to  induce  it  to  bow  sufficiently  to  the 
arbitrary  conventions  and  laws  of  decorum  set  up 
by  others.  To  go  beyond  this  and  feign  a 
sentiment  to  gain  others'  good  opinion,  would 
be  undreamed  of  in  her  mind.  Nor  was  she 
stupefied  by  grief.  Grief  hardly  entered  into  her 
brain.  Her  gay,  volatile,  impressionable  nature 
was  frozen  by  horror  and  shock.  The  artist,  with 
his  double  nature,  his  human  personal  nature  with 
all  its  capacity  to  feel  its  own  human  personal 
emotions,  and  his  artistic  impersonal  nature  which 
feels  also  acutely  impersonal  emotions,  experiences 
exactly  double  of  that  which  the  average  human 
being  endures.  As,  while  living  with  Vincent, 
Paula  had  been  animated  with  a  joy  double  that 
of  an  ordinary  woman's,  her  own  personal  joy 
added  to  the  general  joy  of  her  nature  in  the  sense 
of  the  delight  of  life,  so  here  she  suffered  doubly. 

The  horror  of  death,  the  terror  and  mystery  and 
gloom  of  the  grave,  clung  upon  and  oppressed  her 
impersonally  with  a  heavy  weight  of  pain  and 
sorrow  that  would  not  have  fallen  at  all  upon  a  less 
sensitive  mind,  open  only  to  personal  emotion.  To 
the  artistic  nature,  that  feels  through  the  intellect 
more  than  through  the  heart,  the  death  of  an  enemy 
is  little  less  horrible  than  that  of  a  friend.  To  its  im- 
personal eye,  the  terrible,  ghastly  tragedy  of  human 
life  and  death  is  always  awful,  always  horrifying, 


PAULA  307 

whether  or  not  personal  tears  fall  for  the  life 
relinquished.  And  so  she  had  sat,  silent  and  suffer- 
ing— suffering  through  the  death  of  a  man  she 
had  hated,  as  women  of  a  simple  nature  could 
never  suffer  for  the  dearest  and  best  and  most 
deeply-loved  husband. 

Now  those  fourteen  days  of  blackness  had  rolled 
past,  and  on  this  morning  of  February,  superb  in  a 
flood  of  early  spring  sunlight,  a  sudden  rebellion  of 
all  her  purely  natural  feelings  against  this  crushing 
weight  of  indefinite  depression,  this  abstract  sorrow, 
filled  her.  It  was  mid-day;  twelve  was  striking  as 
she  stood  at  her  window  and  raised  the  blind  to  its 
utmost  limit,  letting  streams  of  quivering  sunlight 
pour  into  the  room.  She  stood  in  it,  rejoicing  in  its 
living  warmth  and  gazing  out  through  the  dazzling 
sheen.  "  Such  a  little  time,"  she  murmured,  "  and 
I  shall  be  dead  too.  It  is  a  crime  to  waste  a 
moment  of  one's  life."  As  she  turned  from  the 
window  her  eyes  fell  on  the  sombre,  funereal 
folds  of  her  dress,  and  a  horror  of  it  seized  her. 
It  was  the  badge  of  grief.  But  why  ?  It  was  false. 
She  was  not  grieved. 

She  went  upstairs,  and  in  her  room  commenced 
to  strip  off  the  heavy,  clinging  black  ;  the  crepe 
rustled,  and  seemed  to  cry  in  the  clutch  of  her 
feverish  fingers  ;  she  could  have  torn  it  in  strips 
in  the  revolt  of  all  her  pleasure-loving  temperament 
from  the  gloom  it  symbolised.  As  it  was,  she  left 
the  clothing  a  black  mass  upon  the  floor,  and  took 


303  PAULA 

another  dress  from  her  wardrobe  and  put  it  on. 
It  was  a  light  grey  woollen  cloth  with  a  bodice  of 
silver  satin.  She  fastened  it  up  rapidly,  smiling 
faintly  back  to  her  image  in  the  glass.  A  new 
gush  of  life  sprang  up  in  her  as  she  saw  herself 
again  in  familiar  colour,  and  the  sun  glinting  on 
her  eyelashes  and  hair.  Such  a  little  time  to  be 
youthful  and  warm  with  life  and  pleasure !  Re- 
member? why  should  she  remember  a  man  she 
had  loathed,  a  degradation  that  was  over,  a  pain 
that  was  past  ?  To  forget  is  one  of  Nature's  most 
merciful  laws.  To  forget  was  to  annul.  Not  to 
realise  a  thing  was  for  it  not  to  be. 

That  same  afternoon  she  walked  round  to  her 
brother's  rooms.  To  reach  them  she  had  to  pass 
the  house  where  Vincent's  flat  was  still  kept  on, 
unused.  She  glanced  up  and  saw  the  blank  win- 
dows, with  their  closed  yellow  blinds,  upon  the 
first  floor.  She  shivered  a  little;  their  blank  im- 
passiveness,  like  the  closed  lids  of  a  dead  face, 
reminded  her  of  Vincent's  terrible  immovability  at 
their  last  parting.  "You  have  done  with  me;" 
she  recalled  the  words  and  the  tone.  They  cut 
across  her  softened  mood  of  happiness,  but  it  was 
only  for  an  instant.  "  He  will  not  reject  me,"  she 
thought,  with  a  flush  of  triumph — the  triumph  of  a 
woman  who  knows  she  has  youth  and  a  hundred 
other  weapons  at  command  to  subdue  the  senses. 

"Charlie,  I've  come  round  to  have  tea  with  you," 
were  Paula's  words  as  she  entered  the  little  sitting- 


PAULA  309 

room,  and  saw  her  brother  in  an  arm-chair  by  the 
fire  studying  a  piece  of  manuscript  music-paper. 

Charlie  sprang  up  to  welcome  her.  As  he 
kissed  her  his  eyes  fell  with  a  glance  of  surprise 
on  her  light  dress.     Paula  laughed. 

"Yes,  I  have  gone  out  of  mourning,"  she  said — 
"  mourning  !  it's  absurd,  it  is  hypocrisy.  Do  you 
know,  Charlie,  as  I  came  down  here,  I  passed  Mrs. 
Leslie.  Her  first  expression  was  a  got-up  look  of 
sympathy,  and  then  when  she  caught  sight  of  my 
dress  it  changed  to  a  glance  of  horror.  She  was 
so  petrified  by  the  sight  of  my  grey  gown  that 
she  couldn't  return  my  bow.  People  will  think  it 
awful,  of  course  ;  but  you  understand,  don't  you, 
Charlie?"  she  said  caressingly,  leaning  her  arms 
about  his  neck.  "  I  did  do  all  I  could  for  Dick.  I 
tried  to  keep  him  alive,  but  fate  settled  it  differ- 
ently. I  have  suffered  a  great  deal,  and  there's  no 
use  now  in  trying  to  prolong  my  unhappiness,  in 
making  a  profession  of  a  sorrow  I  can't  feel,  is 
there?" 

"  No,  dear ;  of  course  not,"  replied  her  brother. 
He  took  her  outdoor  things  from  her  and  drew 
forward  a  chair  to  the  fire.  She  sat  down  in  it 
opposite  him  and  facing  the  stream  of  sunlight. 
It  fell  sparkling  on  the  steel  trimming  at  her 
throat,  and  shimmering  over  the  glossy  satin  of 
her  bodice;  it  netted  itself  in  her  hair  and  sparkled 
in  her  blue  eyes  like  gold  in  lapis  lazuli  as  she 
looked    across    at   him.       She    seemed    fresh,   un- 


310  PAULA 

touched  as  the  soft  young  rose  unfolding  itself  to 
the  dewy  morning  on  its  native  hedge.  It  was 
difficult  to  believe  the  soul  within  was  seared  and 
branded  with  sorrow,  and  shame,  and  sin. 

"  I  am  going  to  him,"  she  said,  after  a  few 
minutes. 

Charlie  did  not  look  surprised.  He  had  noticed 
she  had  changed  her  wedding-rings — the  one  on 
her  hand  now  was  Vincent's;  it  was  broader  and 
thicker,  easily  distinguishable  from  the  other. 
"  You'd  better  let  him  know  first,"  he  said  merely, 
with  prudent  precaution. 

A  smile  and  a  flush  together  flickered  over  her 
face.  "  Oh,  I  should  not  dream  of  going  unless  I 
knew  he  wished  it,"  she  answered.  "  I  am  going 
to  wire  to  him  this  afternoon."  She  got  up  and 
crossed  to  the  writing-table  in  the  window.  "  May 
I  have  a  piece  of  paper?  Thanks,  this  will  do; 
and  I  want  you  to  tell  me  his  exact  address." 
She  came  back  to  the  fire  and  looked  up  at  him 
questioningly  with  the  paper  in  her  hand. 

"  Well,  I  haven't  heard  from  him  for  the  last 
three  months,"  replied  Charlie,  "and  I  didn't 
answer  that  letter.  He  did  not  ask  after  you,  and 
it  rather  annoyed  me,  so  I  didn't  write  again." 

"  Where  was  he  then  ?  "  asked  Paula. 

"  Oh,  as  far  as  I  remember,  he  said  he  was 
rather  seedy,  and  didn't  know  where  to  go  to 
escape  from  the  cold,  and  that  he'd  finally 
arranged  to  take  a  villa  at   Ardenza,  just  out  of 


PAULA  311 

Leghorn,  for  six  months,  with  a  George  Stanhope, 
— the  Honourable  George  Stanhope,  I  believe  he 
is.  Cracky  place  to  go  to,  I  thought;  it's  not  half 
warm  enough." 

"  Then  he  would  be  there  now,  I  suppose  ?  " 
"  I   suppose  so.     It's   about   three  months    ago, 
and  they  were  to  have  the  villa  for  six." 
"  Well,  what's  the  address  ?  " 
"Villa  Uffizij  Ardenza,  Livorno,  Italy." 
Paula  wrote  the  address  and  a  line  under  it,  and 
then  handed  the  paper  across  to  her  brother.     He 
read — "  Dick  is  dead.     May  I  come  to  you  ?  " 

"  Give  it  back  to  me,  Charlie  ;  I  am  going  to  take 
it  at  once,"  and  she  held  out  her  hand  impatiently 
to  take  it  back.  "  Where  did  you  put  my  things  ? 
I  am  going  down  to  the  post  now.  Are  you  going 
to  be  in  to  tea — you  are?  then  I'll  come  back 
directly.  Wait  for  me."  She  had  put  on  her  hat 
and  jacket  again  as  she  spoke.  Charlie  offered  to 
take  the  telegram  for  her,  but  she  preferred  to  go 
herself,  and  went  out  slowly  down  towards  the 
Regent  Street  Post  Office.  She  felt  happy, 
buoyant  with  hope  and  expectation.  She  seemed 
stepping  out  of  those  black  years  behind  her,  as  a 
prisoner  steps  free  from  his  struck-off  fetters. 

When  she  came  back  she  found  the  tea  was 
already  set  for  them  on  a  little  round  table  near 
the  fire.  The  sun  fell  across  the  pale  blue  of  the 
china  and  glinted  on  the  burnished  copper  of  the 
urn,  throwing  up  the  delicate  harmony  of  colour ; 


.' 


12  PAULA 


the  fire  glowed  red,  and  Charlie  leaned  waiting  for 
her  in  the  depths  of  his  arm-chair. 

"  I  can  get  an  answer  in  four  hours,"  she  remarked, 
coming  over  and  raising  the  cover  of  the  muffin 
dish.  "  It's  just  four  now,"  she  added,  glancing  at 
the  clock.  "  It's  no  use  being  impatient  till  eight. 
Shall  I  make  the  tea,  Charlie?" 

"  It's  made.  You  can  pour  it  out,  if  you  like," 
he  answered,  and  watched  her  lazily  as  she  did  so. 
They  drank  their  tea,  Paula  laughing  and  talking 
in  her  gay,  light  voice,  and  crunching  up  the 
muffins  in  her  dazzling  teeth. 

"  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  should  ever  appear  on  the 
stage  again,"  she  said  in  a  pause  of  the  talk  and 
the  muffins.  "  And  perhaps  it's  better  not.  Pos- 
sibly the  gods  will  get  over  their  sulks  with  me 
then." 

After  tea  she  roamed  restlessly  about  the  room, 
finally  opening  the  piano  and  striking  a  few  notes 
on  it. 

"  Do  you  know  what  that  is,  Charlie  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Yes  ;  Handel's  '  Lago.'  " 

" '  Rest,  Heavenly  Rest,'  Vincent's  favourite 
tiling."  She  struck  a  (c\v  more  notes,  and  then 
sang  softly  with  them,  "  And  I  shall  wake  no 
more  ..."  "  Ah  !  "  she  sighed,  and  gently  closed 
the  lid,  "we  want  him  here  to  play  and  sing  it." 

A  few  seconds  before  eight  o'clock,  the  telegraph 
knock    came   distinctly  to   them.     Paula  abruptly 


PAULA  31 


ji  o 


ceased  her  laughing  talk,  and  in  pity  for  her 
whitening  face,  Charlie  ran  down  himself  and 
took  the  missive  from  the  boy.  Paula  tore  it 
open  with  a  hand  that  cockled  the  paper  from  its 
nervous  dampness,  and  read  it  aloud — "Yes;  come 
at  once." 


XVIII 

RUSHING  through  the  flat,  low-lying  plains  that 
stretch  between  Genoa  and  Leghorn,  the  evening 
train,  with  ice-bound  windows,  sped  on  through 
the  freezing  darkness,  carrying  amongst  its  num- 
bers of  living  human  anxious  brains  at  least  one 
overflowing  with  the  joy  in  life  that  is  the  most 
religious  gratitude  humanity  can  give  to  its  Creator. 
In  one  of  the  first-class  carriages,  nestled  into  a 
corner  with  her  bright  head  leaning  back  on  the 
cushions,  and  her  sealskin  and  velvet  and  furs 
loosened  from  her  round  white  neck,  sat  Paula,  her 
blue  eyes  filled  with  a  dreaming  contentment,  that 
grew  ever  more  happy  as  mile  after  mile  of  the 
dreary  swampy  landscape  was  left  behind  them. 
Blind  and  curtains  were  drawn  at  either  end  of  the 
carriage,  foot- warmers  lay  along  the  floor,  and  the 
lamp  above  burned  brightly;  inside,  one  was 
hardly  conscious  of  the  deadly  cold  of  the  night. 
At  the  opposite  end  of  the  compartment,  erect  and 
stiff,  sat  another  feminine  figure — feminine  presum- 
ably it  was  from  the  dress,  though  so  flat-breasted, 

3H 


PAULA  315 

so  angular,  it  might  have  been  of  any  sex.  The 
costume  was  a  severe  and  simple  one  of  tweed, 
and  a  tweed  tourist  cap  surmounted  the  woman's 
face  and  seemed  to  match  exactly  its  brownish 
yellow  tint.  Pier  stout,  massive-looking  feet  in 
thick  boots,  plainly  visible  under  her  short  skirt, 
were  planted  staidly  on  the  foot-warmer,  and  her 
ringless  hands,  thin  and  white,  with  large  polished 
bones,  lay  loosely  on  the  red  Bradshaw  on  her  knees. 
She  might  have  been  of  any  age — thirty  or  fifty. 
Who  can  tell  ?  A  woman  who  has  never  been 
loved  seems  to  have  no  definable  age.  And  surely 
she  never  had  been  loved,  this  girl:  her  straight 
hair  of  a  faded  brown,  smoothed  thinly  back 
beneath  her  tweed  cap,  her  lifeless  eyes,  her  thin, 
pale  purple  lips  closed  so  firmly  over  her  massive 
yellow  teeth,  proclaimed  it  silently.  Yet  she  had 
good  straight  features  whenever  she  turned  her 
profile,  only  the  same  movement  unluckily  revealed 
her  thin  yellow  neck,  looking  like  parchment 
against  her  man's  collar.  Above  all,  there  was  the 
stamp  of  appalling  virtue  upon  her,  that  the 
hardiest  man  would  hesitate  to  interfere  with. 

Paula,  as  she  leant  back  in  her  warm,  soft, 
scented  repose,  watched  her  with  her  slumberous 
eyes,  veiled  by  the  long  curled  lashes,  in  wonder, 
and  not  a  little  awe.  The  contrast  she  presented 
to  this  other  human  being  of  the  same  sex,  the 
same  rank,  and  possibly  even  the  same  age,  was 
sharp,  tremendous.     Paula  with  her  rose  and  white 


316  PAULA 

skin  and  her  vivid  eyes,  the  delicious,  melting 
crimson  of  her  lips,  the  glow  of  life  and  expression 
on  her  face,  and  that  soft,  smooth  throat  with  those 
two  charming  lines,  the  famous  collier  de  Venus, 
indenting  its  sheeny,  satiny  fulness — Paula  in  her 
luxurious  clothing,  her  supple  attitude,  seeming  to 
breathe  of  life  and  its  pleasure,  a  thing  made  for 
caresses. 

Her  eyes  rested  on  the  other's  ringless  hands. 
What  had  she  done  with  her  years  ?  she  wondered, 
and  what  did  she  feel  ?  Had  she  never  longed  to 
open  life's  book  and  read  ?  What  had  she  known  ? 
Anything  ?  She  had  perhaps  known  the  joy  of 
work,  the  joy  of  art,  the  joy  of  study  ;  but  had 
she  never  known  the  joy  of  love,  the  joy  of  her 
womanhood,  the  joy  of  submission,  the  ecstasy  of 
self  lost  in  another  ?  No,  she  felt  sure  she  had 
not ;  and  a  great  thankfulness  to  her  own  fate 
rushed  into  her  heart,  that  though  she  had  suffered 
in  agony  and  travail  of  spirit,  yet  it  had  been 
given  to  her  to  know  life  and  to  live  it.  Work, 
art,  study,  ambition,  fame,  success,  love — she  had 
known  them  all,  and  the  bitterness,  and  the  vanity, 
and  the  joy  of  them.  Better  this,  ten  million  times 
better,  than  the  calm  self-annihilation  that  had 
been  allotted  to  the  other. 

Like  true  British  first-class  passengers,  Paula 
and  this  girl,  compatriots  in  a  foreign  land,  had 
travelled  hundreds  of  miles  without  exchanging 
a   word  ;    but    the    compartment    held    one   other 


PAULA  317 

passenger  besides  themselves.  This  was  a  young 
Italian  peasant  with  a  child  in  her  arms.  Paula's 
attention  had  been  called  to  her  at  Genoa,  where 
she  was  standing  on  the  platform  protesting  with 
the  guard,  who  was  anxious  to  hurry  her  into  a 
third-class  compartment  already  nearly  full  of 
a  swearing,  singing,  smoking,  drunken  crowd  of 
Neapolitan  sailors.  Paula,  attracted  by  the  shrill 
"  Dio  mios  !  "  and  "  Per  Baccos  !  "  had  opened  her 
carriage  window  and  leaned  out  into  the  icy  air. 
By  listening  attentively  she  caught  the  gist  of  the 
quarrel.  It  seemed  that  the  only  third-class  com- 
partment reserved  for  women  only  was  quite  full, 
and  that  the  young  peasant,  for  the  sake  of  her 
child,  objected  to  being  locked  in  with  a  drunken 
masculine  crowd  alone.  Paula  heard  so  much,  and 
then  set  wide  her  door  and  called  the  guard. 

"  Bring  her  in  here,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will  pay 
her  extra  fare."  Her  Italian  was  pretty  good  and 
her  dress  magnificent,  so  the  Italian  managed  to 
comprehend. 

"But,  signora,"  he  protested,  "this  is  a  first- 
class,  and  the  woman  is  but  a  peasant." 

"  She  is  a  mother,"  responded  Paula  gravely, 
"and  these  are  two  lire,"  she  added,  laughing, 
putting  them  in  the  man's  hand;  "bring  her  in." 

Thus  the  young  peasant  woman  had  been 
installed  opposite  Paula,  wooden  sabots,  yellow 
shawl,  green  handkerchief  over  her  head,  wrapped- 
up   baby,   and   all.     Paula,   abruptly   bringing  her 


3i8  PAULA 

gaze  back  from  the  gaunt  figure  in  the  far  corner, 
now  turned  it  softly  on  the  picture  opposite  her. 
The  women's  eyes  met  and  they  both  smiled. 

"  He  sleeps  well,"  Paula  said,  gently  leaning 
forward  and  looking  at  the  child  in  her  arms. 

The  mother's  liquid  brown  eyes  flashed  with 
grateful  fire.  "  Yes  ;  it  was  so  good  of  the  signora 
to  have  us  in  here.  It  is  warm  and  quiet.  No 
wonder  the  angel  sleeps." 

She  spoke  with  a  trace  of  the  Neapolitan  dialect, 
but  with  attention  Paula  could  follow  and  divine 
her  meaning.  She  leant  forward  gazing  at  the 
child.  The  mother,  deeply  flattered,  began  to 
prattle  with  pride  about  her  own  concerns.  Yes, 
it  was  a  happy,  healthy  child,  and  never  cried  ;  and 
there  was  only  one  other  thing  in  the  world  that 
she  loved  better,  and  that  was  its  father.  Some 
women  loved  their  children  better  than  their 
husbands  or  lovers,  but  she  for  her  part  would 
always  love  her  man  the  best.  Yes,  ah  yes,  it 
was  a  love-child,  but  the  father  had  married  her 
now,  and  they  had  a  little  farm  outside  Livorno 
and  were  quite  happy.  Hearing  its  mother's 
chatter,  the  child  woke  up  and  began  to  cry  and 
struggle.  Then  the  woman  unfastened  her  yellow 
shawl,  opened  her  bodice,  and  without  excuse  or 
embarrassment  began  to  suckle  him,  while  Paula 
gazed  at  her  with  such  soft  inquiring  and  yet 
sympathetic,  comprehensive  eyes,  that  they  could 
not    have    embarrassed    any    one.       Here    was    an 


PAULA  319 

emotion  she  had  not  felt,  a  love  she  had  not 
known,  a  page  in  the  Book  of  Life  she  had  not 
read,  and  she  looked  at  this  common  woman 
before  her  with  respect  tinged  with  envy.  It  was 
not  wholly  new  to  her  that  which  she  felt  now. 

Ever  since  she  had  first  loved  Vincent  there  had 
been  a  smothered  longing  within  her,  a  realisation 
that  a  child  would  be  the  sweetest  tie  that  could 
exist  between  them.  But  she  had  always  mocked 
at  herself,  and  her  reason  had  told  her  that  a  child 
is  a  trouble  and  a  fetter,  and  that  she  herself  would 
tire  of  it.  Still  the  instincts  within  her  called 
gently  but  persistently.  "  May  I  take  him  for  a 
little  while?"  she  said  timidly  to  the  peasant,  as 
the  satisfied  child  was  sinking  back  to  slumber  in 
its  mother's  arms.  She  smiled  proudly  as  she 
placed  the  baby  into  Paula's  outstretched  arms, 
which  closed  round  it  softly  and  drew  it  up  tenderly 
to  her  beautiful  youthful  bosom.  The  child  did 
not  scream  nor  seem  to  object  to  the  transference; 
it  nestled  its  face  against  her  velvet  bodice,  and 
seemed  soothed  by  the  delicious  warmth  of  her 
caressing  arms.  And  Paula,  feeling  those  sub- 
dued instincts  rising  up  in  her  with  sudden 
violence,  leant  over  it  and  looked  passionately 
down  at  it,  its  wonderful  lustrous,  transparent, 
olive  skin,  its  eyes  of  liquid  onyx,  its  little  crimson 
mouth. 

"  The  signora  is  fond  of  children  ? "  said  the 
genial  Italian  woman,  smilingly,  while  their  fellow- 


320  PAULA 

passenger  watched  this  little  drama  from  the  far 
end  with  a  stony  British  impassivity. 

Paula  started  and  looked  up.  "  No — oh  no," 
she  stammered,  confusedly.  It  seemed  absurd  to 
her  to  lay  claim  to  the  general  sentiment.  She 
had  always  disliked  children;  did  so  still;  their 
deficient  intellects  oppressed  her.  She  avoided 
their  society  and  had  never  coveted  their  posses- 
sion— on  the  contrary,  dreaded  it.  It  was  only  when 
she  thought  of  the  man  she  loved  that  her  heart 
melted  within  her.  She  would  have  valued  a  child 
as  being  the  most  adequate  visible  proof  of  how 
deeply  she  loved  him.  It  was  not  the  child,  but 
the  state  of  maternity  that  attracted  her,  this  phase 
of  life  she  would  pass  through,  the  suffering  and 
the  burden  of  it,  and  the  subsequent  responsi- 
bilities that  she  would  like  to  face  for  this  man 
alone. 

"No?"  said  the  woman,  smiling  indulgently;  "I 
would  swear  that  the  signora  loves  her  husband 
then  ? " 

"  Yes,  oh  yes,"  responded  Paula,  fervently,  with 
glowing  eyes. 

The  little  brown-faced  woman  nodded  com- 
placently, and  folded  her  mittened  hands  one  over 
the  other.  "  And  the  signora  has  no  children  of 
her  own  ?  " 

Paula  shook  her  head.  She  could  not  speak 
for  the  minute,  as,  full  of  emotion,  she  bent  over  the 
child.     Suppose  its  cyeswere  deep  blue  like  Vincent's 


PAULA  321 

eyes,  and  that  olive  skin  of  a  perfect  paleness?     She 
felt  a  sudden  drag  of  passionate  love  at  her  heart. 

"  Ah,  well,  the  signora  is  going  to  her  husband, 
and  she  loves  him,  and  all  the  English  are  lovely. 
The  signora's  hair  is  like  the  saints'  in  the  cathedral. 
Children  will  be  sent  her,  that  is  certain." 

Paula  raised  her  face;  her  eyes  were  suffused 
with  happy  tears.  She  stretched  out  her  arms  and 
put  the  child  tenderly  back  in  his  mother's  arms, 
for  the  train  was  perceptibly  slowing.  "  Perhaps," 
she  murmured,  "if  the  fates  are  kind."  The  British 
miss  at  the  end  busied  herself  with  drawing  on  her 
gloves  and  folding  up  her  wraps.  Paula  fastened 
her  cloak  again  and  snapped  her  open  handbag. 

"  Shall  you  go  on  out  to  your  farm  to-night  ?  " 
she  asked  the  woman. 

"  Dio  mio!"  she  exclaimed,  glancing  through  the 
window  as  she  pulled  aside  the  blind ;  "  such  a 
night  as  this  !  No.  I  go  to  my  mother,  and  then 
on  to-morrow  if  the  weather  mends." 

Paula  smiled  to  herself,  and  wondered  if  any 
earthly  force  could  prevent  her  from  reaching 
Vincent  that  evening.  "  I  have  to  go  a  long  way 
out,  beyond  Ardenza,  seven  miles,"  she  said, 
smiling. 

"  But  it's  impossible,"  exclaimed  the  little  peasant, 
horrified.  "Ardenza  is  three  miles  from  Livorno, 
and  then  seven  miles  beyond  that !  It's  impos- 
sible. There  will  be  no  carriages,  no  horses,  on  a 
night  like  this." 

21 


322  PAULA 


Other  people's  impossibilities  always  fascinated 
Paula  ,  but  she  would  not  enter  into  a  discussion 
now.  The  train  had  come  to  a  standstill.  "  We 
must  see,"  she  said  simply,  and  then  helped  her 
down  from  the  high  carriage  on  to  the  platform. 
She  fixed  the  woman's  basket  comfortably  on  her 
disengaged  arm  and  kissed  the  child.  The  woman 
said  good-bye  to  her  with  many  good  wishes 
and  blessings,  and  then  moved  down  the  plat- 
form. Paula  was  already  surrounded  by  waiting 
porters. 

"  I  want  to  see  the  station-master,"  she  said. 
The  station-master  had  come  forward,  and  Paula 
turned  to  him.  She  said  simply  she  must  reach 
the  Villa  Uffizi  that  night,  and  asked  what  con- 
veyances there  were.  The  answer  was  very  simple 
too.  There  were  none.  If  the  signora  could  see 
the  roads,  she  would  understand  that  it  was  quite 
impossible  for  a  horse  to  keep  its  footing,  and,  in 
any  case,  no  one  would  attempt  the  journey  that 
night;  the  temperature  was  growing  more  insup- 
portable every  hour.  Ah  !  it  was  a  winter  indeed 
they  would  all  remember " 

"  But — but — "  interrupted  Paula,  desperately, 
"  I  must  get  there,  if  possible.  Is  there  no  way 
you  can  suggest  ? " 

No,  the  station-master  could  suggest  nothing. 
He  shook  his  head,  looked  profoundly  sympathetic, 
and  mumbled  Domani  and  Patienza  by  way  of 
consolation. 


PAULA  323 

"  Domani 7"  repeated  Paula.  "But  it  won't  be 
any  better  to-morrow,  will  it  ?  " 

The  station-master  could  not  say.  Anything 
might  happen  in  the  blissful  indefiniteness  of  to- 
morrow ;  it  was  evidently  impossible  for  the 
signora  to  go  that  night,  and  he  had  been  in- 
structed to  tell  the  signora  by  Milord  Stanhope 
that  apartments  had  been  engaged  for  her  either  at 
this  hotel  close  by,  or  the  Hotel  du  Nord  in  the 
town,  in  case  she  found  it  necessary  to  stay  in 
Livorno.  "  Would  she  not  like  to  be  conducted 
there  at  once  ?  " 

The  use  of  Stanhope's  name  struck  her  with  a 
sudden  chill  of  vague  apprehension.  Was  Vincent 
ill  then  ;  or  away  ?  Then  the  words  of  the 
telegram  leapt  into  her  mind,  "  Come  at  once." 
Had  they  any  deeper  significance  than  she  had 
thought?  Instantly  the  resolve  formed  itself  in 
her  mind.  Reach  him  that  night  she  must  and 
would  ;  and,  since  there  was  no  other  way,  she 
would  walk. 

"Where  is  the  Hotel  du  Nord?"  she  asked 
aloud;  "that  perhaps  is  in  the  direction  of  the 
Ardenza  road  ?  " 

Yes,  certainly  it  was,  close  by  the  quay.  Would 
the  signora  like  a  porter  to  show  the  way  ? 

"  No,"  Paula  answered.  She  preferred  to  go 
alone.     She  must  walk  since  there  was  no  carriage. 

Well,  she  could  not  miss  it.  Let  her  follow 
the  tramways  line — that  would  take  her  straight 


324  PAULA 

through  the  town,  and  they  ran   past  the   Hotel 
du  Nord. 

"And  where  do  they  go  to?"  inquired  Paula. 

"  They  run  straight  on  all  the  way  to  Ardenza, 
a  double  track,"  returned  the  station-master,  proud 
of  the  resources  of  his  town.  "  And  the  Signor 
Halham's  villa  lies  seven  miles  beyond  that,"  he 
continued;  "on  the  same  road,  and  seven  miles 
from  where  the  tramway  ceases.  It  is  a  white 
building.     Ah,  yes  !  a  beautiful  villa." 

Paula's  heart  leapt  at  the  sudden  mention  of 
the  dear  name.  Ten  miles  only  now  between  him 
and  her.  She  had  all  the  information  now  she 
needed  for  the  journey :  love  would  give  her  the 
strength  for  it.  She  thanked  the  station-master, 
gave  some  hurried  directions  as  to  her  luggage, 
and  then  started  from  the  station,  carrying  with 
her  one  light  handbag. 

Seven  was  just  striking  from  the  clock  of  San 
Marco  as  she  stepped  from  the  shelter  of  the 
station  into  the  frozen  stillness  of  the  bitter  night. 
It  was  one  of  those  when  the  sky  seems  arched 
overhead  at  an  extraordinary,  enormous  distance 
from  the  earth.  In  it  climbed  steadily  upwards 
the  small,  cold  moon,  filling  the  sky,  and  bathing 
the  whole  landscape  with  its  white  brilliance.  It 
was  intensely  cold.  The  snow  lay  thick  upon  the 
roofs,  and,  frosted  over  its  surface,  it  glistened, 
sparkling  in  the  moon-rays.  Thick  icicles  as  large 
as  a  man's  wrist  hung  from  the  edges  of  the  tiles ; 


PAULA  325 

piles  oi  snow,  high  as  Paula's  shoulders,  were 
banked  all  along  the  route ;  but  the  pavement 
had  been  kept  fairly  clear,  and  there,  in  the  middle 
of  the  roadway,  lay  the  double  track  of  the  tram- 
ways— four  rows  of  steel  glittering  in  the  moon- 
light. Paula's  eyes  rested  gratefully  on  them — 
they  were  to  lead  her  to  him. 

The  ardent  glow  of  love  alight  in  her  heart 
seemed  to  render  her  physically  impervious  to  and 
unconscious  of  the  deadly  cold.  She  walked  on 
swiftly,  only  anxious  as  to  the  time  it  might  take 
her  to  accomplish  the  distance.  Ten  miles  !  She 
could  do  it  in  two  hours.  Two  hours  and  she 
would  be  in  his  arms. 

She  walked  along  the  pavement  with  quick,  sure 
feet,  looking  all  round  her  with  interested  eyes. 
She  was  in  an  unknown  city,  in  an  unknown 
country,  and  not  even  the  aim  of  her  journey  could 
quite  eclipse  the  impersonal,  eager,  curious  interest 
that  stirred  in  her.  The  great  snowy  piazzas  were 
deserted  :  the  tracks  ran  through  them,  and  Paula 
followed  the  line  with  quick  feet,  her  eyes  glancing 
in  every  direction.  As  she  got  nearer  down  to- 
wards the  port,  she  saw  the  town  was  not  so  frozen 
and  asleep  as  it  seemed  by  the  station.  Occa- 
sionally now  a  man's  figure,  in  a  long  coat  with  a 
fur  collar  turned  up  to  the  eyes  and  a  sealskin  cap 
drawn  down  to  them,  met  and  passed  her.  The 
eyes  peered  curiously  at  her  through  the  slit 
between  the  two  furs,  and  twice  she  heard  the  feet 


326  PAULA 

stop  on  the  crackling  frost,  and  saw  the  sharp-cut 
shadow  on  the  snow  turn  and  stand.  Paula  hurried 
on,  almost  racing,  and  her  heart  beating  hard.  At 
last  the  tracks  turned  into  the  main  street,  the 
great  Via  Vittorio  Emanuele  that  runs  through  the 
centre  of  the  town  clear  away  down  to  the  harbour 
and  the  shipping.  In  any  weather  that  is  reason- 
ably tolerable  this  is  a  highway  for  a  surging  crowd 
of  humanity  that  fluctuates  with  the  coming  in  and 
loading  and  unloading  of  vessels  in  the  port.  But 
now  there  was  but  a  thin  sprinkling  of  figures 
hurrying  through  it,  men  only ;  there  were  no 
women  visible  anywhere  ;  no  vehicles  of  any  sort, 
no  animals,  not  even  a  dog  passed  her.  Paula 
looked  up  curiously  at  the  grim  black  houses  that 
seemed  to  tower  to  such  a  tremendous  height  on 
each  side  of  the  narrow  Via.  All  their  ground- 
flcors  were  shops,  and  these  were  still  open,  throw- 
ing a  blaze  of  warm,  homely  yellow  gas  across  the 
moonlit  pavement.  Nearly  every  other  building 
was  a  closed  cafe.  All  the  front  of  these  were 
glass,  with  glass  swing  doors  in  the  centre. 

Paula,  glancing  through  the  panes  as  she  hurried 
along  close  to  the  shops,  saw  the  long  narrow  in- 
teriors stretching  far  back,  brilliantly  lighted, 
furnished  with  row  upon  row  of  wooden  benches, 
and  filled  with  a  mob  of  drinking,  smoking, 
chattering  Italians  :  the  lowest,  the  roughest,  and 
poorest,  the  drc;^s  of  the  Livornese  populace.  In 
one  of  these  cafes  she  saw  a  fight  commencing,  and 


l'AULA  327 

the  blade  of  a  knife  flashed  out  from  one  of  the 
yellow  fur-trimmed  coat  sleeves,  making  a  bright 
curve  in  the  smoke-filled  air;  the  door  swung  open 
at  the  minute,  and  a  band  of  sailors  poured  out ; 
through  the  swinging  doors  Paula  heard  the  din  and 
the  uproar  of  the  angry  voices  within;  the  panels 
swung  to,  and  she  sped  on.  A  man  stopped 
deliberately  in  front  of  her.  She  went  into  the 
gutter  to  avoid  him,  and  left  him  standing  looking 
after  her.  As  she  stepped  on  to  the  pavement 
again  she  felt  in  front  of  her  wadded  sealskin.  Yes, 
the  revolver  was  there  safe.  "  I  may  want  it,  it 
seems,"  she  murmured  to  herself  with  a  smile, 
thinking  of  the  knife  that  had  looked  keen  in  the 
cafe,  and  would  look  keener  still  in  the  moonlight 
of  the  country  road  beyond  Ardenza. 

On,  on,  why  this  street  itself  must  be  a  mile  long, 
she  thought  impatiently.  At  last  there  came  a 
scent  of  sea  diffusing  itself  through  the  frosty  air ; 
she  drew  it  in  exultantly.  She  felt  she  must  be 
nearing  the  harbour.  A  few  moments  more  and 
she  had  reached  the  corner  of  the  long  street.  A 
white  building  caught  her  eye  in  the  moonlight,  and 
she  read  on  it  "  Hotel  du  Nord."  Her  heart  leapt 
as  she  followed  the  tramways  that  went  sweeping 
round  the  corner,  and  saw  the  great  dockyard  and 
a  maze  of  ice-bound  rigging,  masts,  and  disabled 
hulls  before  her. 

After  she  had  passed  the  Hotel  du  Nord,  with  its 
cheerful  lighted  windows,  for  the  first  time  a  chill 


328  PAULA 

of  apprehensive  fear  came  over  her.     Blank  and 
brilliant  lay  the  road  before  her  without  a  single 
living  object,  flanked   by   the  huge  white  houses, 
mostly  with  windows  shuttered  up  for  the  winter, 
on  the  one  side,  and  by  the  sullen  black  waters  of 
the  harbour  on  the  other.     It  was  colder  here,  too, 
than  it  had  been  up  in  the  town,  or  the  temperature 
was   sinking    rapidly.      The    utter    loneliness    was 
more  striking  after  the  gaslight  and  sense  of  human 
companionship  in  the  street  she   had    left.      She 
glanced  round :  her  own  figure  and  her  own  shadow 
were  the  only  things  that  moved.     Still  she  never 
hesitated  ;    only  hastened  her  steps  forward.     On 
before  her  ever  ran  the  glittering  steel  tracks  over 
the  frozen  ground.     Not  a  sound  reached  her,  not 
even  a  lap  nor  a  murmur  from  the  black  water  at 
her  side.     On,  over  the  Ponte  Nuovo  and  beyond, 
with  the  low  wall  of  the  quay  beside  her,  behind 
which   lay  the  great  ghastly   silent   forms    of  the 
ships  with  their  frozen  ice-bound  rigging;  on,  past 
the  dreary  gloomy  buildings  of  the  huge  custom- 
houses; and  then  on,  on,  under  an   old   crumbling 
wall  shrouded  in  ivy  that  stood  high  over  Paula's 
head  and  buried  the  pathway  in  dense  blackness. 
It  seemed  to  her  ages  that  she  had  walked  by  that 
wall.     An  unknown  road  has  always  the  peculiar 
attribute  of  appearing  infinitely  longer  than  its  real 
mileage,  and   to   Paula  each   step  was  absolutely 
unknown  ;    she   could    not   have   told   in   the  least 
where  she  was  going  but  for  the  tramways  that  she 


PAULA  329 

kept  her  eyes  on,  till  they  seemed  almost  to  become 
companions  in  the  journey. 

On   the  other  side  of  her  there  was    an    open 
square,  and  across  the  broad-flagged,  stone-paved 
roadway  beyond  rose   a  straight  line  of  the  six- 
and    seven-storied     Livornese    houses,    their   pale 
pinky-painted  cardboard-looking  fronts  seeming  to 
stare   blindly  at  the  floods   of  moonlight  bathing 
them.      Every  here   and  there  came  a  break    in 
them — the  black  mouth  of  some  narrow  street,  a 
street  so  narrow,  with  the  houses  so  high  on  either 
side,  that  the  moonlight   could  not  get  down  into 
it.      Paula's  eyes  travelled   keenly  over  all  on  all 
sides   as   she   walked,  but   no  moving  figure  ap- 
peared.      The    solitude    and    the    stillness    were 
intense.       She  stepped,    after    a    time,    from    the 
oppressive  shadow   of   the   wall   into  the  brilliant 
road :    the    light    crackle    of  the    frost    under   her 
quick  footsteps  was  the  only  sound.     She  felt  mad 
with  impatience  to  cover  the  ground  faster.     Since 
she  had  once  conceived  the  idea  that  Vincent  was 
possibly  ill  and  in  need  of  her,  every  moment  she 
was  away  from  him  seemed  to  her  a  crime.     At 
times   she  almost  ran.      It  was    only   the    fear    of 
premature  exhaustion  that  checked   her  and  kept 
her  pace  to  a  walk.     As  it  was,  she  must  have  been 
moving  at  nearly  six  miles  an  hour,  and  it  seemed 
so  slow  to  her,  her  progress.     At  last  she  turned 
the  corner  of  the  wall.     Now  she  was  in  the  open — 
on  the   Livornese  sea-front,  with  the  open  sea  on 


330  PAULA 

her  right  hand,  and  still  the  high,  pinky  cardboard- 
lookinir  houses  on  her  left.  She  was  now  in  the 
best  quarter  of  Livorno.  Before  her  unrolled 
itself  the  level  white  road,  a  true  Italian  noble 
road ;  it  reminded  her  of  the  pictures  she  had  seen 
of  the  Via  Appia  But  her  heart  sank  for  an 
instant  as  her  eye  travelled  along  it,  so  long,  so 
straight,  so  implacable !  She  seemed  to  have 
walked  a  great  distance  already,  and  yet  she  was 
still  in  Livorno !  And  Livorno  must  be  left 
behind  and  Ardenza  reached,  and  Ardenza  left 
behind,  and  then  seven  miles  more  covered  before 
she  could  reach  the  Villa.  But  the  flutter  at  her 
heart  only  lasted  an  instant.  The  next  it  resumed 
its  great  quick  energetic  beats,  forcing  the  hot 
youthful  blood  rapidly  through  her  veins. 

On,  on  she  walked,  and  on  stretched  the  bright 
steel  tracks.  She  could  sec  them  gleaming  far 
ahead  of  her  along  the  road.  After  a  time  the 
houses  ceased  on  her  left  hand,  and  desolate,  and 
deserted,  and  shut  up  though  they  had  been,  Paula 
missed  them,  and  shuddered  a  little  as  she-  gazed 
out  now  on  the  flat  dreary  expanse  of  waste 
country — level  frozen  fields — that  stretched  away 
for  miles  on  the  other  side  of  the  road.  She  kept 
her  eyes  on  the  roadway  and  the  tracks,  and  fell 
into  a  reverie  as  she  walked.  For  a  long  time  she 
hardly  raised  her  gaze  from  the  frosty  ground,  and 
then  suddenly  lifting  her  eyes  with  a  start  she  was 
face  to  face  with  the  city  wall  and  the  huge  gate, 


PAULA  331 

the  barrier  of  the  old  Italian  town.  For  the  first 
second  she  felt  nothing  but  joy.  She  had  reached 
the  edge  of  the  city.  Then  came  a  chill  of  terror. 
Were  the  gates  open  ?  She  looked  over  the  colos- 
sal structure  as  she  hurried  up  to  it.  It  reared 
itself  huge  and  impressive :  two  solid  columns  of 
stone,  one  almost  washed  by  the  sluggish  waters  of 
the  tideless  sea,  the  other  half  built  in  the  city 
wall  that  stretched  out  far  across  the  barren 
country  beyond  where  the  eye  could  follow  it. 
Beneath  these  columns  Paula  saw  the  black  iron 
networks  of  the  gates.  Almost  suffocated  by  her 
fears  that  they  might  be  shut,  shutting  her  into  the 
city,  she  came  nearer :  the  middle  gate  and  one 
small  one  at  the  side  were  closed,  the  other  small 
one,  the  pedestrian  gate,  stood  open.  Paula  passed 
through  it  like  the  wind.  Out,  out  into  the  open 
country.  She  took  two  or  three  paces  forward, 
her  heart  beating  hard  with  grateful  relief,  then 
paused  one  instant  and  looked  back.  The  solid 
wall,  the  great  columns,  gleamed  white  behind  her. 
This  was  the  last  of  the  protection  of  the  city. 
But  the  bright  tracks  ran  on  and  on,  hopeful  and 
assuring,  ever  and  ever  on  before  her,  through  the 
icy  solitude.  She  felt  no  fear.  A  supreme  confi- 
dence in  herself  and  her  powers  had  always  been 
her  gift.  A  fresh  gush  of  life  and  strength  seemed 
to  animate  her  as  she  started  forward  again. 

For   a    mile    or    two    the    road    lies    flat    and 
monotonous  along  the  sea,  and  Paula  again   felt 


332  PAULA 

her  reverie  coming  over  her.  The  long,  mechanical 
action  of  walking,  the  utter  silence  and  solitude, 
the  intensity  of  the  cold,  and  the  mesmerism  of 
the  glittering  lines  of  steel,  induced  a  sort  of 
lethargy  of  thought.  A  species  of  drowsiness 
crept  across  even  her  excited,  eager  brain.  All  at 
once  Paula's  eyes  missed  something.  The  tracks 
had  ceased.  The  tramway  had  come  to  an  end. 
She  stopped  suddenly  and  looked  back.  Yes,  she 
had  passed  them  now  by  a  few  yards.  This,  then, 
was  Ardenza.  The  village  by  courtesy.  A  few 
scattered  hovels,  mere  huts,  without  a  light  in  any 
one  of  them,  and  a  large  wooden,  barn-like  build- 
ing, painted  in  tawdry  colours,  closed  and  barred 
now,  but  in  summer  calling  itself  a  cafe.  The  road 
here  turned  inland,  ascending  gently,  leading  away 
from  the  sea  into  the  desolate  waste  of  snow- 
covered  country.  She  paused  a  minute  and  stood 
still,  drawing  her  breath  quickly,  and  feeling  all 
her  pulses  beating  hard  throughout  her  frame. 
Now  she  must  go  on  without  the  tracks  to  guide 
her.  She  felt  sorry  to  leave  them  behind  ;  she  was 
distinctly  conscious  of  a  sense  of  loss  as  she  looked 
back  at  them.  There  they  lay  gleaming,  cold  and 
tranquil,  in  the  moonlight,  on  the  white  road  behind 
her  as  they  had  shone  in  front.  Well,  their  mission 
was  accomplished,  her  way  now  was  clear.  There 
was  but  that  one  solitary  wide  road  leading  out 
upon  the  waste.  Paula  realised  suddenly  she  must 
not  stay  still.     The  cold  pressed,  as  it  were,  against 


PAULA  333 

her  check  almost  like  the  edge  of  a  knife.  She 
saw  that  her  frozen  breath  had  formed  an  ice  collar 
on  the  fur  about  her  neck.  With  one  more 
grateful  glance  at  the  glistening  tracks  she  started 
forward  again.  Even  her  elastic  muscles  were 
stiffening  now  from  fatigue  and  cold. 

She  left  the  village  behind,  and,  with  her  heart 
beating  joyfully,  started  on  the  last  seven  miles. 
She  glanced  round  once  or  twice,  to  make  sure  she 
was  not  being  followed.  No;  the  footsteps  she 
fancied  from  time  to  time  she  heard  behind  her, 
were  really  only  the  hammerings  of  the  excited 
blood  in  her  ears.  Down  the  white  Ardenza  road 
fell  the  moon-rays,  mile  after  mile,  and  encountered 
no  moving  thing.  Away  and  away  from  the  track 
rolled  the  low  barren  hills  ;  and  far,  far  off,  dis- 
cernible behind  lower  ranges  against  the  sky,  in 
gigantic,  glittering  peaks,  rose  the  eternal  Alps. 
All  around  on  every  side,  for  league  upon  league, 
till  vision  failed,  there  was  one  monotonous  waste 
of  white,  and  not  the  faintest  sound  broke  the  still- 
ness of  that  huge  wilderness  of  snow.  The  temper- 
ature fell  lower  and  yet  lower.  There  seemed  an 
unuttcred  threat  of  Nature  against  all  life  in  that 
awful,  snowy  silence.  And  in  defiance  of  it,  the 
girl  pressed  onward  over  the  frozen  track  across  the 
vast  undulating  plain,  in  the  teeth  of  the  Arctic 
night. 


XIX 

SEVEN  !  The  delicate  chime,  in  seven  silver  strokes 
of  sound,  went  through  the  huge,  comfortable  room 
— the  drawing-room  of  the  Villa  Uffizi,  seven  miles 
out  of  Ardenza.  As  they  chimed  through  the 
stillness,  the  three  men,  the  only  occupants  of  the 
room,  all  recognised  them  faintly.  The  young 
fellow  sitting  at  the  table,  occupied  in  rather  rest- 
lessly turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  magazine,  looked 
up  at  the  clock  and  yawned  with  a  disappointed 
air,  as  if  he  had  thought  it  was  later.  The  man 
stretched  at  full  length  on  a  couch  between  the  two 
long  windows,  lowered  his  book  deliberately,  and 
watched  the  face  of  the  clock  over  his  spectacles 
until  it  had  ceased  striking.  The  third  man 
sitting  far  back  in  a  large  arm-chair  drawn  close 
to  the  fire,  with  his  head  averted  from  the  room, 
closed  one  listless  hand  that  hung  over  the  chair 
arm,  as  if  in  pain,  as  he  heard. 

The  clock  ceased,  each  figure  relapsed  to  its 
former  attitude,  and  the  silence  reigned  unbroken 
again,  except   for  the  heavy  muffled   tick  of  the 

334 


PAULA  335 

passing  seconds.  The  room,  in  its  hangings  and 
finishings  and  its  dark  ceiling,  was  a  splendid 
specimen  of  old  Florentine  decorative  art ;  in  its 
furniture,  its  lamps,  its  carpets,  a  type  of  modern 
luxury.  The  man  at  the  hearth  looked  round,  and 
the  light  fell  on  his  face.  It  was  Vincent's  face, 
changed  beyond  recognition.  The  deadly  yellow 
tint  that  had  formerly  been  just  faintly  suggested 
in  moments  of  extreme  fatigue,  had  crept  all  over 
it,  invaded  the  clear  white  pallor,  and  spread  up- 
wards to  the  edge  of  the  dark  hair.  The  lips  were 
blue  and  drawn.  All  the  fine  modelling  of  the 
face  had  grown  sharp  and  pinched,  and  a  helpless 
exhaustion  looked  out  of  the  faded  eyes.  They 
gazed  now  hungrily  at  the  man  on  the  sofa.  It 
was  an  effort  to  gather  strength  to  speak.  After  a 
minute  the  gaze  seemed  to  effect  Vincent's  object. 
The  man  looked  over  the  edge  of  his  book,  and 
Vincent  made  a  sign  to  him  with  one  thin  yellow 
hand.     He  rose  and  crossed  over  to  him. 

"Do  you  think  I  shall  last,  Doctor,"  murmured 
Vincent,  just  audibly,  "  through — the  night  ?  " 

The  doctor  drew  a  chair  up  beside  him  and 
attempted  to  assume  a  cheerful  air.  "  Oh,  I  hope 
so,  I  hope  so,"  he  said  ;  "  one  never  knows  in  these 
cases.  The  temperature  might  go  up  and  give  you 
a  fresh  lease  of  life." 

"And  if  it  does  not?"  The  voice  was  very 
weak,  but  there  was  still  the  old  tone  of  determina- 
tion in  it,  the  wish  to  hear  and  face  the  truth. 


V,6  PAULA 


oo 


"  Well  then,  we  must  hope  you  will  still  pull 
through  it.  How's  the  pulse?"  He  took  his 
patient's  wrist  and  felt  attentively.  "  Yes,  yes, 
that's  not  so  bad,"  he  said.  "  I  am  afraid  your 
great  anxiety  is  going  against  you,  you  know." 

"  Don't  let  me  keep  you  and  Stanhope  from  your 
dinner,"  said  Vincent  after  a  minute.  "  Just  help 
me  to  the  couch,  and  then  go." 

The  doctor  supported  him  to  the  couch,  put  a  gong 
within  reach  on  a  table,  and  then  crossed  the  room 
to  where  the  young  fellow  sat  gloomily  staring  at 
them.  He  signed  to  him,  and  they  both  went  out. 
Outside  he  said  to  Stanhope,  "  I  am  afraid  the 
poor  fellow  is  sinking  fast.  It  will  be  an  awful 
thing  to  meet  the  girl  with  when  she  does  come. 
I'm  afraid  he  can't  last,  you  know." 

Stanhope  walked  beside  him  in  gloomy  silence. 

"  Seems  a  pity  we  can't  save  him,"  went  on  the 
doctor  musingly,  "  such  a  good-looking  fellow  he 
must  have  been,  and  with  such  a  charm  of  manner. 
Pity  he  must  slip  through  for  just  the  want  of  a 
little  extra  blood,"  and  he  gazed  at  his  companion 
attentively.     Stanhope  reddened. 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  save  him  then  ?  "  he  said 
pettishly;   "you're  a  doctor,  I'm  not." 

Alone  in  the  silent  room  Vincent  lay  upon  the 
couch  with  closed  eyes  listening  to  the  remorseless 
clock  that  ticked  away  his  last  seconds  upon  this 
earth.  If  she  would  only  come!  that  was  his 
single  thought  now.     All  the  powers  in  his  brain 


PAULA  33; 

were  focussed  on  that  one  sole  desire,  that  she 
might  come.  It  was  more  than  a  desire,  it  was  a 
terrible  thirst.  The  thought  of  her  face  was  like 
the  thought  of  water  in  fever. 

His  thoughts  slipped  back,  weakly,  vaguely,  over 
the  long  lapse  of  time  to  that  morning  after  she 
had  left  him,  when  he  had  gathered  up  the  thread 
of  his  life  again  for  the  second  time  where  she  had 
broken  it.  He  remembered  the  repugnance  to 
go  back  to  England,  and  how  he  had  gone  on 
alone  instead,  back  to  his  old  life  in  Australia,  and 
thrown  himself  into  his  work  to  keep  off  thought. 
How  fortunate  he  had  been,  how  everything  he  had 
touched  had  been  successful,  and  how  he  had 
worked  !  and  ail  that  time,  slowly  and  insidiously, 
had  his  disease  been  creeping  upon  him  unnoticed 
and  unchecked.  Yes,  he  saw  it  all  now — now  that 
it  was  too  late.  Day  after  day  spent  in  those  dingy 
bank  offices  without  sun,  without  air,  bending  per- 
petually over  documents,  and  working  out  accounts 
and  writing  letters.  He  remembered  that  growing 
languor  that  used  to  beset  him,  that  sense  of  ex- 
haustion after  the  least  effort,  the  constant  feeling 
of  tiredness  even  without  effort. 

Then  his  thoughts  passed  on  rapidly  over  those 
monotonous  weeks  to  the  tour  one  spring  with  his 
friend  Stanhope,  a  tour  through  Italy,  and  he  re- 
membered how  delightfully  his  health  had  been 
given  back  to  him  in  the  summer  warmth,  how  he 
had  thought  there  was  a  charm  in   the   Italian  air; 

22 


333  PAULA 

how  at  the  beginning  of  the  winter,  when  the  cold 
had  seized  him  and  brought  back  his  illness,  the 
Paris  specialist  had  suggested  Italy  as  the  one 
place  in  the  world  to  winter  in,  where  the  warm 
sunlight  and  pure  air  from  the  Alps  would  re- 
cuperate his  impoverished  blood.  He  recalled  how 
Stanhope  had  persuaded  him  to  take  the  villa  for 
the  winter,  how  they  had  both  thought  this  olive- 
covered  sunny  slope  lying  south  was  safe  from  the 
touch  of  winter.  He  remembered  their  disillusion 
in  the  earlier  months,  and  their  hesitation  as  to 
whether  they  should  stay,  and  then  the  sudden  and 
awful  descent  of  the  winter  upon  them — the  ice- 
bound roads,  the  snow  banked  high  to  the  hedges, 
the  freezing  wind  coming  down,  like  the  blade  of  a 
knife,  from  the  mountains. 

Then  had  come  his  sudden  sense  that  his  hold  on 
life  was  over:  the  cold  ate  into  his  system,  where 
the  current  was  running  weaker  and  weaker  in  his 
veins,  and  Stanhope  had  started  for  Florence  to 
bring  back  the  best  doctor  there  to  see  him. 

Just  three  weeks  ago  that  had  been  when  his 
friend  came  back  with  the  great  man,  who  had 
only  been  passing  through  the  city,  and  whom 
Stanhope,  by  urgent  entreaty,  had  persuaded  to 
visit  the  solitary  dying  man,  imprisoned  in  this 
splendid  villa  on  the  lonely  Ardenza  slopes. 

Just  three  weeks  ago  that  he  had  been  told  he 
must  die.  And  since  then  it  had  been  a  calm  and 
terrible  waiting  for  the  end.     The  slowness  of  the 


PAULA  339 

disease  made  it  like  a  gradual  dissolution,  a 
disintegration  almost,  before  death.  Day  by- 
day,  hour  by  hour,  in  that  fearful  cold  where 
the  temperature  was  sinking  daily,  his  force 
diminished,  his  blood  ran  slower,  very  gradually 
the  whole  machinery  of  his  frame  was  ceasing  to 
work  from  want  of  the  vital  fluid,  as  a  clock's 
machinery  from  want  of  oil.  And  now  it  seemed 
long  to  to-morrow  morning.  To-morrow  morning 
seemed  far  away.     If  she  would  only  come. 

Eight!  The  clock  struck  softly:  eight  strokes, 
and  then  the  silence  closed  as  it  were  again  over 
the  sound,  and  seemed  doubly  profound.  Vincent 
strained  his  ears.  Not  a  sound  within  the  room, 
not  a  sound  without  the  long  windows.  How  he 
yearned  and  longed,  how  each  fibre  in  his  brain 
ached  to  hear  a  clatter  of  wheels,  or  a  light  step, 
or  the  crackle  of  the  frosted  snow  from  the  out- 
side ;  but  there  was  nothing,  only  an  iron,  im- 
placable silence.  He  watched  the  clock,  its  long 
hand  had  moved  to  the  ten  minutes  past  the  hour. 
He  drew  out  slowly  with  weak  fingers  two  flimsy 
sheets  of  paper  from  his  breast  pocket.  They 
were  her  telegrams,  her  first  of  a  week  ago,  and 
her  last  dated  from  Genoa.  He  held  them  up 
now  before  his  eyes  and  followed  the  written 
words,  though  he  knew  them  by  heart :  "Am 
coming  as  quickly  as  possible,  but  lines  arc 
blocked  and  trains  uncertain. — Paula." 

There  was  just  the  faint  shadow  of  a  smile  upon 


340  PAULA 

his  face  as  his  nerveless  hand  fell  again  to  his  side. 
Yes,  she  would  come  as  quickly  as  she  could,  her 
whole  temperament  was  stamped  in  that  one  line  ; 
but  when,  when  would  she  be  here  ?  He  looked 
at  the  clock,  the  slow  hand  had  reached  the 
quarter.  If  she  would  only  come !  It  seemed  as 
if  the  mere  longing  for  her  would  have  strength  to 
hold  him  to  life  until  she  came.  How  clearly  he 
saw  her  face,  how  it  stood  out  vivid  and  brilliant 
against  the  background  of  the  years  they  had  been 
parted !  If  he  could  feel  her  warm  arms  round 
him,  be  wrapped  round  in  her  wonderful  vitality! 
His  own  dying  nature  seemed  to  leap  up  within 
him,  his  pulses  hurried  feebly,  he  raised  himself  a 
little  from  the  couch,  the  beat  of  his  heart  seemed 
to  stifle  him.  What  was  that  ?  There  seemed  the 
crunch,  just  a  little  faint  crunch  of  snow  outside, 
lie  listened  intently,  but  no,  there  was  no  further 
sound.  Tick,  tick,  tick,  perpetually,  and  the  faint 
breathing  of  the  stove,  otherwise  silence  as  relent- 
less, as  implacable,  as  his  own  approaching  death. 

There  seemed  a  curious  tightness  across  his 
chest,  his  breathing  seemed  becoming  more  diffi- 
cult. He  felt  it,  and  could  divine  its  meaning. 
He  was  dying  then,  and  she  was  not  here,  she 
would  not  be  in  time.  He  fell  back  into  his  old 
position,  a  cold  sweat  gathering  in  the  palms  of 
his  hands.  It  was  to  be  then.  He  would  not  see 
her,  could  never  recall  those  last  words  of  his 
to    her    that    had    lain    like    an    iron    searing    his 


PAULA  341 

conscience,  never  hear  that  she  had  forgiven 
him. 

He  hardly  thought  of  his  own  death.  Since 
that  first  terrible  moment  when  he  had  heard  his 
fate,  since  those  few  awful  minutes  of  despair  when 
he  had  realised  that  he  must  relinquish  his  life, 
since  the  first  inevitable  madness  of  regret  had 
swept  over  him,  that  it  had  to  be  relinquished  not 
for  any  great  aim  or  object,  or  any  overwhelming 
necessity,  but  merely  through  the  pitiful  chance 
that  had  led  him  to  a  climate  fatally  cold — since 
the  first  great  revolt,  he  had  summoned  all  his 
resolution,  all  the  calmness  with  which  he  had 
faced  life,  and,  wrapped  round  in  it  as  in  a  mantle, 
he  awaited  death  almost  unmoved. 

Only  the  one  desire,  that  clung  to  him  with  a 
mad,  resistless  force,  remained — to  have  her  within 
his  arms  again.  He  could  not  free  his  brain  from 
its  violent  obsession.  The  longing  had  sprung  to 
life  at  her  first  telegram.  To  him,  resigned,  pre- 
pared for  the  inevitable,  and  awaiting  it  in  this 
solitary  snowy  isolation,  half-way  within  the  grey 
shadow  of  the  tomb,  her  message  had  come, 
winging  its  way  suddenly  from  the  very  throbbing 
centre  of  that  life,  now  so  far  away.  And  sud- 
denly from  beneath  the  weight  of  oblivion  he  had 
tried  so  hard  to  heap  upon  it,  her  young  figure 
sprang  up,  fresh,  vivid,  smiling,  forbidding  him  to 
descend  farther  into  the  shadow,  calling  him  back 
to  the  sunlight.     And  though  he  could  not  believe 


342  PAULA 

hers  could  save  his,  yet  the  thought  of  her  life,  of 
her  form,  that  was  youth  and  health  incarnate, 
came  to  him  with  an  inexpressible,  infinite  sweet- 
ness. 

Oh,  to  see  that  white  neck  once  more,  the  red 
lips  parting  in  smile  upon  smile ;  to  press  the 
warm  heart  to  his  ;  to  feel  her  wealth  of  inex- 
haustible love  enfolding  him  once  more  !  After 
all  and  through  all,  and  though  she  had  made 
him  suffer,  yet  she  had  loved  him  as  no  other 
woman  had,  and  it  was  to  her  image  that  he 
turned  now.  Of  all  the  other  hands  that  had 
caressed,  of  all  the  other  lips  that  had  kissed, 
there  were  none  he  thought  of  nor  wished  for 
now.  Of  all  the  women  that  had  been  pleasant 
to  live  with,  it  was  this  one  woman  alone  in  whose 
arms  he  felt  it  would  be  no  pain  to  die. 

Nine  !  The  clock  struck  again.  Vincent  tore 
open  his  eyes  and  looked  at  it.  Could  it  be  so 
late  ?  Another  hour  had  gone,  but  she  had  not 
come.  An  hour,  another  hour  of  strength  and  life 
taken  from  him,  an  hour  cut  from  the  period  he 
could  hold  out  waiting.  Again  that  stifling  tight- 
ness of  the  chest !  He  looked  round.  He  was 
alone  still !  Why  did  they  not  come  back  ?  He 
must  have  stimulants  to  keep  this  faintness  at  bay. 
He  reached  his  hand  to  the  gong  on  the  table 
beside  him  and  struck  it.  Its  sharp  silver  note 
rang  like  a  cry  through  the  stillness.  The  doctor 
and  his  companion   came  into  the   room    almost 


PAULA  343 

before  the  sound  had  died  away,  with  a  look  of 
expectancy  and  alarm  stamped  on  their  faces — the 
doctor's  sober  and  chill  with  anxiety,  the  young 
fellow's  flushed,  as  if  he  had  been  drinking-. 

"I  feel  worse,"  gasped  Vincent.  "Your  tonic! 
anything  to  give  me  an  hour  or  two  longer  !  "  His 
voice  sank  to  a  whisper.  His  face  was  grey.  The 
doctor  rushed  to  his  side  with  a  wine-glass  half- 
filled  with  a  white  liquid.  Vincent  drank  it,  and 
grasped  the  other's  wrist.  "  She  must  be  here  .  .  . 
soon  .  .  .  now,"  he  said  eagerly;  "if  you  can  keep 
me  two  hours." 

"  Yes,  oh  yes ;  many  hours  yet,  I  hope,  and  she 
is  due  now — she  must  be  here  soon,"  responded 
the  doctor. 

"Tell  me  .  .  .  I  .  .  .  can't  last  beyond  midnight; 
can  I,  now?" 

The  doctor  bent  over  him  and  felt  in  the  region 
of  the  heart,  and  remained  silent. 

"  Well,  I  know  it,"  Vincent  said  faintly.  "  Call 
Stanhope."  The  doctor  signed  to  the  young  fellow 
to  come  up. 

"  When  did  you  say  the  train — the  last — came 
in  ?  "  he  asked. 

Stanhope  flushed  and  hesitated,  and  then  stam- 
mered painfully,  "It  was  ...  I  believe  ...  its 
usual  time  is  6.30." 

"  And  did  you  order  the  carriage  to  meet  it  ?  " 
The  doctor  had  his  arm  beneath  Vincent's  head. 
From  out  of  the  pale  drawn  face  the  fixed  eyes 


344  PAULA 

blazed  steadily  upon  Stanhope's  nervous  counte- 
nance. 

"Look  here,  Vincent,"  he  said  desperately; 
"I'm  awfully  sorry,  but — but  the  man  wouldn't 
take  his  horse  out,  nor  go  himself.  You  don't  know 
what  the  cold  is  like  outside.  He  said  it  meant 
nothing  less  than  freezing  to  death  as  one  sat  and 
drove ;  and  the  roads  too,  it's  just  like  one  arched 
sheet  of  glass.  No  horse  could  keep  his  footing  on 
it.  The  men  can  only  walk  along  the  sides.  I  bribed 
him,  I  threatened — I  tried  to  get  another  man,  but 
— but — Vincent!  don't  look  like  that.  In  the 
morning  perhaps " 

His  voice  died  away  inarticulate.  Vincent's 
head  slipped  from  the  doctor's  arm  and  fell  heavily 
back  upon  the  couch.  She  would  not  get  here, 
then,  to-night !  It  was  hopeless.  The  sweat  burst 
out  again  cold  upon  him  in  his  agony  of  helpless 
longing.  The  doctor  motioned  Stanhope  roughly 
away. 

"  She  may  find  a  carriage  in  the  town,"  he  said 
with  infinite  sympathy.  "Of  course  the  roads  are 
bad,  and  that  accounts  for  her  delay  ;  she  is 
probably  on  her  way  up  now." 

The  still  figure  on  the  couch  made  no  response 
this  time,  and  the  doctor  moved  down  the  long  room. 

"You  may  think  you've  killed  him,"  he  said  in  a 
fierce  whisper  to  Stanhope,  who  was  leaning  now 
against  the  corner  of  the  mantelpiece,  with  one 
hand  thrust  into  his  pocket  and  looking  aimlessly 


PAULA  345 

at  the  clock.     It  marked  the  half-hour  after  nine. 

He  turned.     "  Well,   I "     There  was  a   slight 

clamour  in  the  passage,  the  sound  of  the  clacking  of 
the  loose  Italian  shoes  of  the  servant  on  the  stone 
floor,  and  then  the  door  was  opened. 

Paula,  wrapped  in  her  furs  that  sparkled  with 
hoar  frost,  stood  on  the  threshold,  glowing,  splendid, 
superb  in  her  wealth  of  life  and  vitality.  The 
fearful  cold  outside,  the  quick  long  walk  of  her 
young  elastic  feet,  the  ardent  excitement  within 
her, — all  these  had  painted  an  exquisite  flush  on  her 
wild-rose  skin.,  her  eyes  were  limpid  with  light,  the 
lamp  ray  gleamed  on  her  vermilion  lips  all  trem- 
bling into  smiles. 

Both  the  men  nearest  the  door  turned  with  an 
exclamation.  She  did  not  see  them.  Before 
either  could  advance  or  Vincent  could  move,  she 
had  traversed  the  space  between  them  and  was  on 
her  knees  beside  him,  her  arms  were  round  him, 
her  velvet  lips  on  his,  pressed  there  in  a  silent 
madness  as  in  the  old  past  days.  It  was  a  moment 
of  delirium,  of  joy,  in  which  years  of  sorrow  were 
swallowed  up,  cancelled,  given  over  to  oblivion. 

"You  forgive  me  now  ?  "  she  murmured,  and  the 
warm  rose-like  breath  was  drawn  into  the  dying 
man's  gasping  frame,  and  seemed  to  animate  it. 
"  Darling !  forgive  me." 

The  two  Englishmen  by  common  consent,  moved 
by  instinctive  delicacy,  had  gone  over  to  the  door 
and  passed  through  it,  closing  it  softly  after  them. 


346  PAULA 

Now  they  strolled  mechanically  down  the  passage, 
dimly  lighted  by  the  square  hanging  lamps. 

"  She's  just  turned  up  in  time,"  remarked  the 
younger  laconically. 

"Yes.  What  a  splendid  creature!"  returned 
the  doctor  with  musing  enthusiasm.  "  There's  life, 
there's  blood  ! " 

The  young  man  glanced  at  him.  "  Still  haggling 
over  your  old  idea,  Doctor?"  he  said  with  a  nervous 
laugh.  "  When  will  their  transports  be  over,  I 
wonder !     It's  beastly  cold  out  here." 

He  was  not  heartless.  On  the  contrary,  the 
slow  approach  of  his  friend's  death  weighed  with 
a  dull  horror  upon  him,  and  this  affectation  of 
boredom,  this  flippancy,  was  his  British  way  of 
showing  it.  As  he  spoke,  flying  steps  came  down 
the  passage  behind  them.  Both  the  men  turned 
and  came  face  to  face  with  Paula,  the  radiant, 
brilliant  incarnation  of  life,  health,  and  woman- 
hood, in  the  grim  grey  stone  passage  with  the 
lamplight  falling  on  her  through  the  ruby  squares 
of  its  glass. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ? "  she  asked, 
and  her  eyes  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in 
piteous  entreaty.  "  What  has  happened  ?  He  is 
dying !  " 

The  agony  in  the  voice,  that  seemed  to  fill  the 
whole  passage  with  its  music,  made  the  doctor 
colour  nervously.  He  plunged  both  hands  deep 
down     in    the    pockets    of    his    loose    coat,    and 


PAULA  347 

looked  at  her  above  his  spectacles.  "  Mas  he 
told  you?" 

"  Told  me ! "  repeated  Paula.  "  I  can  see  it. 
What  is  it?"  Her  heart  seemed  beating  itself  to 
death  in  agony,  a  mad  desperation  ran  through 
her,  like  a  barbed  wire  being  pushed  cruelly  along 
her  veins. 

"  Very  obscure,"  muttered  the  doctor  ;  "  long- 
standing mischief,  accelerated  by  this  cold." 

"  The  name,  the  name  of  the  disease  ? "  said 
Paula,  impatiently.  She  stood  in  front  of  him  : 
there  seemed  a  menace  in  her  blazing,  dilated 
eyes. 

"  Well  really,  it  is  difficult  to  classify  these  con- 
stitutional inorganic  diseases ;  it  seems  to  be  a 
phase  of  pernicious  anaemia." 

"  An-aemia,"  repeated  Paula,  raising  her  eye- 
brows. "  Want  of  blood  ;  well,  here  is  blood,"  she 
said  suddenly,  holding  out  both  hands  with  their 
rosy  glow  at  each  finger  tip.  "  Take  mine  and  put 
it  into  him.  You  can  do  it,  I  know.  What's  that 
operation?  Intravenous  injection,  transfusion  of 
blood  :  transfuse  mine,  will  you  ?  " 

The  colour,  momentarily  driven  from  her  face, 
had  rushed  back  to  it  again.  Her  eyes  were  alight, 
her  lips  parted  in  eager  questioning.  Both  men 
stared  at  her  in  silence  for  a  few  seconds.  Stanhope 
was  the  first  to  recover  himself.  "Now,  Doctor, 
there's  your  chance,"  he  said,  with  his  nervous  little 
laugh. 


348  PAULA 

"  What  do  you  know  of  transfusion,  eh  ? "  said 
the  doctor  after  a  minute,  half  derisively. 

"  Nothing,  except  that  there  is  such  an  operation," 
answered  Paula.  "  You  must  know  all  about  it," 
she  added,  her  habit  of  flattery  to  all  men  coming 
to  her  aid,  "  being  a  doctor.  Wouldn't  it  answer 
here?"  She  waited,  her  whole  life  seeming  to 
hang  upon  his  answer. 

"  I  think  it  might,"  he  answered  slowly. 

"  Then  do  it,  oh !  do  it,"  she  said,  seizing  his 
hand.  "  There's  not  a  moment  to  be  lost.  He 
seems  to  me  sinking,  dying  ;  and  he  shall  not  die." 
The  glorious  blasphemy  hardly  seemed  one  from 
such  lips.  It  seemed  as  if  she  could  give  away  life 
from  her  superabundance.  "Can  we  manage  it? 
Can  you  do  it  ?  "  she  pursued,  holding  the  doctor's 
limp  hand  hard  in  hers,  as  if  she  could  transfer 
some  of  her  fervour  to  his  phlegmatic  frame. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  he  said.  "  Certainly,  if  you 
and  he  wish  it."     Paula  raised  his  hand  to  her  lips. 

"  Save  him,  only  save  him,"  she  said  ;  "  you  will, 
you  must." 

The  doctor  withdrew  his  hand  hurriedly,  but 
some  of  her  enthusiasm  was  imparted  to  him 
already.  "  I'll  go  and  speak  to  him  about  it,"  he 
said. 

"  Only,  not  a  word  of  the  risk  to  me,"  answered 
Paula. 

The  doctor  hesitated.     "  I  can't  deny  facts,"  he 

said  stiffly. 


PAULA  349 

Paula  stretched  out  her  arms  each  side  and  stood 
in  front  of  him,  barring  the  passage.  Something 
in  her  attitude  struck  a  chord  of  memory  in  the 
doctor's  brain. 

"  Why,  you're  the  great  dancer  surely ! "  he 
ejaculated  in  sudden  astonishment. 

"Say  the  dancer,"  returned  Paula,  with  a  melan- 
choly smile. 

"The  great  dancer,"  reiterated  the  doctor;  "I 
thought  I  knew  the  voice !  Well,  Mrs.  Reeves,  it 
seems  a  sin  to  experiment  with  a  life  like  yours." 

Paula  wrung  her  hands  impatiently.  "  We're 
wasting  time.  What  do  I  matter?  cut  me,  kill  me, 
take  all  the  blood  I've  got,  only  not  one  word  to 
him.  He  will  never  consent  if  you  breathe  a 
syllable  about  the  risk." 

The  doctor  stood  irresolute.  His  brain  rather 
rocked  with  one  emotion  after  another  being  thrown 
into  it  in  this  way.  Stanhope  stood  looking  on,  a 
fascinated  silent  beholder  of  a  devotion,  a  love,  he 
could  not  realise,  nor  even  faintly  grasp. 

"  Do  go  to  him,  dearest  doctor,  do,  and  if  he  asks 
about  the  danger,  lie  to  him,  do,  for  my  sake." 
She  still  stood  in  front  of  him  with  outstretched 
arms  and  shining  eyes,  tremulous  with  excitement, 
in  an  agony  of  fear  and  anxiety  for  the  life  that 
was  slipping  silently  away  while  they  talked. 

"  Very  good,  if  you  really  wish  it,"  returned  the 
doctor,  moved  unconsciously  by  the  force  of  her 
intensity.     "  Come,  Stanhope,  I  want  you  there  as 


350  PAULA 

a  witness  to  what  passes:'  The  two  men  went 
back  towards  the  drawing-room.  Paula,  left  alone 
in  the  grey  corridor,  walked  up  and  down  feverishly. 
Hours  seemed  to  elapse,  and  then  Stanhope  came 
back  alone. 

"He  has  consented;  he's  so  weak  he  hardly 
understands  what  we  want,  but  he  keeps  asking  for 
you,"  he  said.  "  Would  you  like  Angela  to  show 
you  your  room,  while  I  get  him  to  bed?  Dr.  Green- 
wood says  he'll  do  it  at  once,  if  you  like." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  she  answered  with  a  sigh  of 
intense  relief,  and  Stanhope  looked  at  her  curiously. 
'  Tell  Dr.  Greenwood  I  am  ready  whenever  he  is." 

The  old  Italian  woman,  Angela,  was  following 
him,  and  as  Stanhope  went  back  to  the  drawing- 
room,  Paula  went  up  to  the  room  that  had  been 
prepared  for  her.  It  was  brilliant  with  the  light  of 
fire  and  lamps,  full  of  a  warm  red  glow.  Beyond 
the  long  glistening  panes  of  the  window,  the  blind 
of  which  was  still  undrawn,  shimmered  the  moon- 
light; it  fell  athwart  the  window,  not  entering  the 
room.  Paula  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  centre  of  the 
fi relit  space  looking  out  with  fixed  mechanical  eyes. 
How  strange  life  was,  and  how  suddenly  a  climax 
or  a  crisis  was  upon  one!  How  she  had  longed 
and  hoped  that  she  might  one  day  be  free,  and  now 
she  was  so!  All  the  old  obstacles  were  removed 
and  no  new  ones  had  intervened.  None  of  the 
things  she  had  feared  had  happened.  His  passion 
had  not  died  nor  been  transferred.     She  was  with 


PAULA  351 

him  again  as  in  the  old  days,  and  now  suddenly  a 
life  was  demanded  by  Fate,  and  that  life  seemingly 
was  to  be  hers. 

This  is  how  our  prayers  are  always  answered; 
this  is  how  our  wishes  are  sent  down  to  us,  like 
parcels  hurried  off  by  a  careless  postmaster,  some 
misdirected,  some  badly  tied  together,  some  in 
boxes  too  small  for  them,  all  broken,  cracked  or 
spoiled,  left  at  the  wrong  destination  or  delivered 
too  late.  As  a  girl  she  had  prayed  for  the  recognition 
of  her  art.  It  had  been  sent  packed  in  a  cramping 
marriage,  and  the  delicate  living  flower  killed.  Now 
she  had  prayed  for  happiness,  it  had  been  duly 
despatched  to  her  under  the  black  seal  of  death. 
An  ironical  smile  curved  her  lips.  An  arrogant  light 
came  into  her  eyes.  Well,  she  would  accept. 
Accept:  the  great  grand  rule  of  life  that  makes 
us  tranquil  gods  of  our  own  lives  ;  over  even  that 
necessity  that  governs  the  gods  themselves. 

A  knock  came  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  responded  Paula,  and  the  doctor 
entered.     He  came  up  to  the  hearth. 

"  I  feci  I  ought  to  tell  you,"  he  began  hesitat- 
ingly, "  to  warn  you  seriously,  it  may  cost  you 
your  life." 

"  I  know  that,"  replied  Paula,  smiling.  Her  eyes 
were  liquid  with  laughter,  smile  after  smile  chased 
each  other  over  the  curving  lips,  the  little  white 
nostril  dilated  and  quivered,  her  bosom  heaved 
joyously. 


352  PAULA 

"  And  it  may  cause  you  intense  pain." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  she  returned  simply. 

The  doctor  stared.  Had  he  to  deal  with  a 
maniac  ?  Intense  enthusiasm  has  always  a  touch 
of  madness  to  the  eyes  of  common  sense.  It  is 
akin,  certainly,  if  not  to  madness,  at  least  to 
delirium.  "  I  don't  understand,"  he  stammered. 
She  was  surprised  in  her  turn.  It  was  the  alpha- 
bet of  the  emotions  to  her. 

"  Don't  you  understand  what  it  is  to  suffer  for  a 
person  you  care  about  ?  "  she  said,  raising  her  eye- 
brows tranquilly.  "  That's  not  pain — it's  delight. 
Bring  in  your  case  of  instruments,"  she  added  ; 
"  I  want  to  see  them." 

The  doctor  disappeared,  and  returned  with  a  flat 
black  case.  Paula  took  it  and  opened  it  on  the  rug 
in  the  firelight,  and  examined  its  contents  with  glow- 
ing eyes,  as  a  young  girl  might  a  case  of  jewels. 

"  What  are  these  ?  "  she  said,  lifting  some  little 
silver  tubes  from  their  velvet  compartment. 

"  Those  are  the  cannulae  for  inserting  into  the 
veins ;  that's  the  trocar,  and  that's  the  scalpel," 
returned  the  doctor,  bending  over  her  and  touch- 
ing each  thing  with  his  finger  as  he  spoke.  "And 
that's  the  connecting  tubing,  and " 

"  Doctor,  are  you  ready  ? "  came  Stanhope's 
voice  from  the  foot  of  the  stone  staircase. 

The  doctor  glanced  at  Paula.  She  nodded. 
"  We're  coming,"  returned  the  doctor,  shutting 
his  case. 


PAULA  353 

Paula  rose,  and  they  went  out  together.  The 
room  beneath  was  brilliant  and  well  warmed  :  two 
large  stoves,  with  doors  set  wide  open,  sent  out 
gushes  of  fierce  heat  and  red  light ;  the  window 
was  invisible  behind  heavy  velvet  curtains.  Paula's 
eyes  flashed  instantly  to  the  bed.  Vincent  lay 
there,  pallid,  impassive,  seemingly  unconscious. 
Stanhope  stood  beside  it,  nervously  yawning  and 
raising  his  hand  to  his  mouth  each  second. 

"  Sit  down  there,"  said  the  doctor  imperatively 
to  Paula.  "  Take  off  your  bodice  .  .  .  have  you 
any  tight  stays  on? — No?  nothing  tight?  that's 
right ;  then  wait  till  I  call  you." 

Paula  took  the  chair,  and  unfastened  her  bodice. 
She  drew  it  off,  that  she  might  be  quite  ready. 
Stanhope  turned  a  little  so  that  he  could  not  see 
her.  But  Paula  was  not  thinking  of  him.  The 
tension  of  her  feelings  was  too  high  for  her  to 
think  of  embarrassment.  She  sat  bare-necked  and 
bare-armed  obediently  waiting. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Reeves,"  called  the  doctor,  and 
Paula  got  up  and  walked  over  to  the  bed.  Vin- 
cent lay,  with  closed  eyes,  on  his  back,  his  head 
and  shoulders  very  slightly  raised,  his  right  arm 
outstretched  and  bare,  supported  on  a  pillow, 
bandaged  above  the  elbow,  and  with  the  poor, 
pale  vein  picked  up  in  it,  and  the  cannula  fixed 
in  position.  Stanhope,  with  the  perspiration  on 
his  forehead,  held  it  in  his  not  too  steady  fingers. 
The  doctor  helped  her  on  to  the  bed,  and  she  sank 

23 


354  PAULA 

down  beside  him,  and  stretched  herself  out  gently 
as  she  was  told,  each  limb  trilling  and  tremulous 
with  emotion.  Vincent  had  moved  a  little,  with 
assistance,  to  give  her  the  necessary  space,  and 
now  turned  his  head  towards  her  and  looked  at 
her  with  the  old  smile  of  his  days  of  health ;  her 
eyes  flashed  back  upon  him,  full  of  her  passionate, 
overwhelming  love,  as  she  laid  her  head  back  on 
the  pillow  arranged  for  her. 

"Are  you  sure  it  won't  hurt  you,  darling?"  he 
asked,  in  a  far-off  tone. 

"  Quite,"  she  answered,  and  her  voice  sounded 
like  a  laugh  of  glad,  confident  triumph:  it  was  the 
first,  the  only  lie,  that  had  ever  crossed  her  lips 
to  him. 

The  doctor  leant  over  them  and  raised  her  arm; 
it  was  glowing  and  tremulous — her  whole  body 
glowed  and  quivered  with  the  infusion  of  the  same 
strange  enthusiasm  that  had  flowed  through  her 
on  the  birth-night  of  her  art :  then  she  was  step- 
ping forward  to  a  new  life  ;  now  again  she  was  on 
a  threshold,  perhaps  of  a  new  life,  or  only  of  the 
grave  ?  All  her  body  was  pulsating  wildly,  the 
blood  flowed  along  in  ardent  impetuous  waves,  her 
heart  beat  hard  beneath  the  smooth  firm  breast  as 
a  caught  dove  pants  wildly  beneath  the  net.  The 
doctor,  feeling  the  trembling,  palpitating  movement 
of  her  whole  frame  beneath  his  hands,  bent  down 
and  looked  close  into  her  eyes.  "Are  you  afraid? 
Do  you  feel  any  fear  ?  " 


PAULA  355 

"Not  a  bit;  I  am  only  delighted — too  happy." 
Her  eyes  met  his,  they  had  the  glow  and  the  flame 
of  one  entirely  borne  away  by  mental  exaltation 
from  the  sphere  of  bodily  suffering. 

"Give  me  your  arm  then."  He  took  her  soft 
snowy  left  arm  and  twisted  a  bandage  tightly 
round  it  above  the  elbow,  the  flesh  below  swelled 
and  flushed,  and  the  vein  in  the  hollow  of  the 
elbow  rose  in  a  beautiful  dark  blue  cord.  Stan- 
hope saw  it  rise,  and  felt  a  sick  nausea  coming 
over  him  as  he  realised  it  was  to  be  cut.  Vincent's 
eyes  were  closed,  life  was  at  its  lowest  ebb,  he  was 
almost  pulseless,  hardly  conscious.  As  the  vein 
swelled  and  the  doctor  commenced  to  lay  it 
bare,  a  tremor  of  agony  went  over  the  girl's  face. 
Stanhope  saw  it,  and  the  doctor  saw  it — each 
second  they  expected  a  scream  from  the  whitening 
lips.  The  doctor  muttered  something  about  it 
being  the  most  painful  part,  and  Stanhope 
sickened  violently,  and  felt  ready  to  scream 
himself. 

Paula's  eyes  met  theirs.  They  had  a  mocking 
smile  in  them,  though  the  lips  quivered  with 
exquisite  pain.  "  Don't  hurry,"  she  said,  and  her 
voice  was  quite  natural ;  "  I  like  it." 

Stanhope  felt  a  throb  of  admiration  for  her 
marvellous  self-command.  The  doctor  hardly 
heard.  "  Quite  still,  please,"  he  muttered,  and 
with  a  dexterous  movement  exposed  the  vein, 
passed  the  needle  beneath  it,  cut  it,  and  slipped  in 


356  PAULA 

the  cannula,  and  the  torrent  of  her  blood  racing 
down  from  her  beating  heart  pulsed  along  the 
tubing,  blazing  with  the  passions  of  life,  and 
gushed  vital  and  life-giving  into  the  veins  of  the 
dying  man  beside  her. 

Paula  smiled  as  she  felt  the  sudden  quick  drain 
upon  her  system ;  a  sweet  tremulous  light  seemed 
to  play  over  her  face  as  second  followed  second, 
and  the  waves  of  life  coursed  from  her  to  him. 
At  last  she  was  atoning,  at  last  she  was  serving 
him  !  She  saw  Stanhope's  eyes  fixed  in  a  sort  of 
wonder  on  her  face,  and  smiled  at  him — a  smile 
that  he  never  forgot.  It  was  supernatural  in  its 
happiness  and  triumph.  The  rapture  of  those  few 
moments !  The  gods  had  been  good  to  her  at 
last !  As  the  stream  of  her  young  blood  poured 
steadily  along  his  veins,  a  gradual  change,  subtle 
and  barely  perceptible  at  first,  came  over  the  grey- 
hued  face  on  the  pillow:  faint  colour  began  to  glow 
softly  in  the  sunken  cheeks  and  quiver  in  the  pale 
lips;  the  eyelids  moved,  rose,  then  fell,  then  rose 
ajjain  as  the  dawn  of  new  life  shone  in  the  faded 
eyes.  And  as  the  vital  stream  passed  from  one 
to  the  other,  her  life  sank  as  his  rose.  She 
grew  visibly  paler,  her  lids  shut  heavily,  the  bosom 
lifted  and  fell  but  very  slightly,  the  crimson  of  the 
mouth  grew  white,  all  animation  fled,  leaving  still 
the  beatific  smile,  the  smile  of  ecstasy  on  the 
marble  lips. 

At  last  the  doctor,  whose  gaze  had  been  prin- 


PAULA  357 

cipally  fixed  on  Vincent's  face,  and  who  was  noting 
the  new  dawn  of  life  with  rapt  professional  eyes, 
saw  the  increasing  pallor  of  the  girl,  and  knew  he 
must  end  the  operation.  The  next  few  seconds 
were  anxious  ones.  Stanhope  saw  the  doctor's 
face  grow  pale  with  anxiety,  and  noted  dimly  at 
the  time,  to  remember  clearly  afterwards,  with  how 
much  greater  care  he  attended  to  Vincent's  arm 
than  to  the  girl's. 

"  Take  enough,"  she  murmured,  raising  her  lids 
with  a  faint  smile  as  she  was  being  moved. 

"I'm  only  afraid  we've  taken  too  much,"  mut- 
tered the  doctor  inaudibly,  and  he  stooped  over 
her  and  lifted  her,  now  languid  and  inert,  up 
from  the  bed ;  her  head  fell  backward  over  his 
arm,  and  the  eyes  strained  back  to  look  at  Vincent 
She  hated  being  taken  from  him.  It  had  been  so 
unutterably  sweet  lying  there  beside  him,  giving 
away  her  life  to  him  ;  and  now  it  was  over,  broken 
off  as  an  unfinished  dream. 

Vincent's  eyes  opened  as  the  doctor  took  her 
from  his  side.  "  Let  her  stay,"  he  said,  and  his 
voice  was  clear  and  steady,  the  tints  of  his 
face  were  warm  and  glowing.  The  hot  youthful 
current  circulated  through  him,  diffusing  vigour 
over  the  languid  frame  and  passionate  impulses 
in  the  awakening  brain.  He  stretched  out  his 
unbandaged  arm. 

"  No,  no,  damn  it,  sir,"  returned  the  doctor, 
delighted  and  elated  beyond  measure  at  the  success 


353  PAULA 

of  his  work,  and  affecting  a  good-humoured  testi- 
ness.  "  I  haven't  taken  all  these  pains  and  saved 
your  life,  for  you  to  risk  it  by  working  yourself 
into  a  fever." 

Paula,  lying  collapsed  and  helpless  in  the  doctor's 
arms,  still  looked  at  Vincent  with  eyes  wide  with 
pain  and  excitement,  as  she  was  carried  away  to 
a  mattress  at  the  farther  corner  of  the  room.  She 
sank  on  it  limply  from  the  doctor's  arms,  and  lay 
pallid  and  nerveless. 

Stanhope  stood  at  the  foot-rail  of  the  bed,  look- 
ing from  one  to  the  other  with  fascinated  eyes.  The 
transformation  was  complete.  Life  had  been  trans- 
ferred— literally  taken  from  the  one  and  given  to 
the  other.  He  felt  as  if  he  had  been  transported 
back  into  the  Middle  Ages,  and  was  witnessing 
some  weird  mediaeval  piece  of  sorcery.  He  came 
up  to  the  bed. 

"  Well,  old  man,  how  do  you  feel  now  ?  " 
Vincent  looked  up  with  kindling  eyes  and  warm 
lips,  his  whole  frame  seemed  expanding  with  the 
new  life  poured  into  him. 

"  Marvellous,  isn't  it  ?  I  feel  well,  as  I  have  not 
done  for  years  ;  but  I'm  so  anxious  about  her. 
Ted,  do  make  them  look  after  her." 

The  doctor  came  up  to  them.  "  Now,  now,"  he 
said  sharply,  "  no  talking,  or  we  shall  have  you  in 
a  fever.  You  must  lie  still  and  keep  quiet,  or  all 
Mrs.  Reeves  has  done  for  you  will  be  in  vain."  He 
waved   Stanhope  away   from  the  bed.      Vincent's 


PAULA  359 

eyes  followed  him  with  aa  imploring  look.  Stan- 
hope nodded  reassuringly  as  he  moved  over  to  the 
other  mattress. 

The  doctor  had  called  in  the  old  Italian  serving 
woman.  She  sat  now  with  Paula's  head  on  her 
knees,  pouring  teaspoon fuls  of  beef-tea  down  her 
throat,  and  muttering  "Ah!  Poverina"  as  not  the 
faintest  warmth  or  colour  in  the  dead-hued  face 
indicated  a  response. 

Vincent,  who  could  not  see  her  now  as  he  lay, 
looked  at  the  doctor.  "  Are  you  sure  she's  in  no 
danger?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  I'm  quite  sure,"  returned  the  doctor  im- 
patiently. "  I'll  have  her  carried  out  of  the  room 
and  upstairs,  if  you  don't  compose  yourself  and 
lie  still." 

Under  this  threat  Vincent  said  no  more,  and  the 
doctor,  seeing  his  eyes  close  quietly,  passed  on 
into  an  adjoining  room  to  give  some  orders.  But 
Vincent's  pulses  were  beating  hard,  the  girl's  quick 
blood  was  circulating  through  him,  feeding  the 
wasted  tissues,  and  quickening  the  exhausted  brain. 
Thoughts  flew  rapidly  through  his  mind,  like 
sparks  driven  through  the  air  from  the  anvil. 
Sweet,  tender,  grateful  feelings  swelled  and  rose 
in  him  one  upon  the  other,  like  wave  upon  wave. 
As  the  body  slowly  gathered  strength  from  the 
impetuous  life-stream,  its  appetite  for  life  came 
back,  and  with  this  the  rapturous  mental  joy  in  it. 
The  delight  and  the  joy  of  coming  back  to  it,  the 


360  PAULA 

joy  of  the  woman  whose  life  now  beat  in  his,  the 
joy  of  their  future  they  would  spend  together,  and 
the  mere  animal  joy  of  feeling  the  warmth  and  the 
richness  of  Being,  and  all  its  powers,  once  more 
flooding  his  veins  !  An  overwhelming,  unspeakable 
tenderness  welled  up  in  him,  sending  the  hot 
moisture  into  his  eyes,  as  he  thought  of  the  girl 
who  had  come  to  him  like  this,  with  the  great  gift 
in  her  open  hands.  An  uncontrollable  impulse 
urged  him,  and  he  sat  up  erect,  with  outstretched 
arms. 

"  Darling,  come  to  me !  "  His  voice  vibrated 
with  ineffable  longing.  Paula,  lying  mute  and  inert 
upon  the  mattress  at  the  far  end  of  the  room, 
quivered,  and  staggered,  pale  and  uncertain,  to 
her  feet. 

Stanhope  rushed  forward  to  support  her,  but  she 
had  already  tottered  blindly  over  towards  the  bed. 
Another  second  and  her  head  was  pressed  against 
his  breast,  where  his  heart  beat  strongly. 

"  How  can  I  thank  you  ?  my  darling  !  my  dear 
little  love  ! " 

She  looked  up  and  saw  the  life  that  had 
been  hers  in  his  face,  it  looked  back  at  her  from 
the  glowing  eyes.  She  saw  his  lips  were  red, 
it  was  her  blood  that  was  flowing  there.  He 
would  live  now,  the  gods  had  written  their  promise 
across  his  face.  They  had  been  infinitely  good  to 
her! 

"It  is  my  gift  to  you,"  she  murmured;  "it  has 


PAULA  361 

been  such  an  exquisite,  infinite  pleasure  to  me  to 
give  it 

The  doctor  entered  through  the  other  room, 
bringing  in  stimulants  for  the  patient.  He  was 
furious.  "  I  can't  trust  you,  evidently,"  he  said 
roughly.  "  She  shall  go  out  of  the  room,  that's  all." 
He  took  the  girl's  unbandaged  arm  and  right 
shoulder  and  drew  her  forcibly  away  from  Vincent's 
longing  grasp.  He  was  deaf  to  every  argument, 
and  simply  lifted  her  up  bodily  and  carried  her  to 
the  door. 

"  May  I  see  her  in  the  morning?"  Vincent  asked, 
restlessly  following  the  nerveless  figure  with  burn- 
ing eyes. 

"  Yes,  to-morrow,"  returned  the  doctor ;  and 
Paula  heard  with  a  faint  shadow  of  a  smile; — for 
her  she  felt  there  was  no  to-morrow. 

The  doctor  signed  to  the  old  woman  to  follow 
him  and  marched  upstairs  with  Paula  to  the  room 
above.  The  shock  of  icy  air  from  the  outside 
passages  was  great,  and  Paula  shivered  in  his 
arms  and  lay  quite  motionless.  The  room  upstairs 
was  perfectly  warm,  as  warm  as  Vincent's  own,  and 
when  they  had  reached  it  she  seemed  to  revive  a 
little.  The  doctor  carried  her  over  to  the  hot 
circle  of  firelight  round  the  stove,  and  she  seemed 
able  to  stand  upright,  and  volunteered  that  she 
could  undress  without  assistance.  The  doctor 
brought  forward  her  bag,  and  began,  with  a  woman's 
gentleness,  getting  out  the  few  little  things  she  had 


362  PAULA 

brought  with  her.  Presently  a  weak  cry  brought 
him  over  to  her  side  again.  Paula  had  slipped  off 
her  skirt,  but  the  string  of  her  petticoat  had  caught 
and  drawn  into  a  knot,  her  quivering  fingers  pulled 
at  it  in  vain,  her  face  was  colourless.  "  I  can't," 
she  said,  helplessly  turning  her  wide  eyes  upon  him. 
She  was  trembling  all  over,  and  tottered  as  she 
stood.  The  doctor  supported  her,  and  cut  the 
string  with  his  penknife.  She  clung  to  his  arm. 
"I  shall  die!  I  shall  die!"  she  exclaimed  half- 
unconsciously.  All  her  instincts  told  her  she  was 
dying. 

"  No,  no,  I  believe  not,"  he  answered  firmly,  and 
struck  the  gong.  Angela  came  up  in  response, 
bringing  a  tray  of  stimulants  and  the  unfinished  beef- 
tea.  With  the  aid  of  these  and  Paula's  own  will, 
that  had  not  left  her  yet,  the  doctor  and  the  old 
woman  between  them  succeeded  in  getting  her  into 
bed.  To  Paula,  as  she  lay  back  in  it,  there  seemed 
no  bed,  only  space  through  which  she  was  sinking, 
sinking. 

The  doctor,  supporting  her  head,  kept  alternating 
the  food  and  wine,  until  Paula  turned  from  the 
glass.  "  I  can't  take  any  more,  let  me  rest  a  little." 
She  turned  towards  the  wall,  feeling  only  an  in- 
finite longing  for  sleep.  The  doctor  sat  beside  her 
frowning  deeply  in  his  anxious  meditation.  He 
could  hardly  understand  this  collapse  ;  he  had  often 
performed  the  operation  before,  and  in  no  case  had 
he  lost  a  life. 


PAULA  363 

"  I  thought  you  would  spare  it  easily,"  he 
muttered  half  aloud  at  last;  "  how  is  it  ?" 

"  I  was  very  tired  when  I  came,"  murmured  the 
weak  voice  from  the  bed. 

"Ah,  yes!  how  did  you  get  here?  Stanhope 
told  me  there  were  no  means  of  any  sort." 

"  No,  but  I  walked." 

"Good  God!"  There  was  a  Ion^  silence  after 
that  single  startled  exclamation.  The  doctor's  face 
had  grown  as  white  as  his  patient's;  then  after  a 
long  time  he  added,  "If  I  had  known  that !" 

Paula  turned  her  head  towards  him  again. 
"Perhaps  you  mightn't  have  done  it?"  she  said 
with  a  little  smile.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  didn't 
know.  If  anything  should  happen,"  she  added, 
"  be  sure  to  tell  Vincent  that  I  did  not  regret  it ; 
that  I  was  only  too  happy,  too  delighted;  that 
nothing  could  have  made  me  happier  than  this. 
Do  tell  him,  won't  you? — you  won't  forget." 

"  No,  no,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  "  I  would  tell 
him.  But  you  mustn't  think  of  such  things  ;  you 
feel  weak,  but  I  am  sure  there  is  very  little 
danger." 

"  You  are  certain  he  will  live,"  asked  Paula, 
anxiously;  "there  will  be  no  relapse?  he  will  be 
cured,  will  he  not?  " 

"  Cured  is  hardly  the  word,"  he  answered. 
"  The  new  blood  has  helped  him  over  the  crisis, 
saved  his  life  certainly.  The  effect  will  last  till 
the  weather  breaks  up.     Then  you  must  get  him 


364  PAULA 

into  Egypt,  out  of  this  cold.  In  a  warmer  climate 
his  system  will  soon  right  itself  after  this  tre- 
mendous impetus  given  it." 

There  was  a  faint  sigh  only  in  response.  Egypt ! 
How  the  word  stirred  her  thoughts!  Once  before 
they  had  been  on  their  way  to  Egypt !  and  now 
again  there  was  a  question  of  Egypt.  No  one 
would  stop  them  now.  But  it  was  too  late.  He 
would  go  alone,  and  she  must  stay  behind  in  a 
little  grave  on  the  lonely  Ardenza  slope. 

"  Is  it  well  to  leave  him,  doctor?"  she  asked,  after 
a  moment's  silence.  "  Don't  let  me  take  you  from 
him." 

The  doctor  looked  closely  at  her.  "  Well,  I 
think  you'll  do  now  for  a  time.  I  shall  leave  you 
Angela,  and  be  up  again  myself  presently,"  and  he 
went  down  to  the  restless  patient  below.  Paula, 
left  alone,  sank  back  upon  her  pillow,  and  her  eyes 
wandered  slowly  round  the  great  room. 

What  a  splendid  room  it  was,  how  large  and 
handsome!  and  it  had  evidently  been  prepared 
with  care  for  her.  Her  eyes  filled  slowly  with 
cold  weak  tears  as  she  noted  tenderly  and  grate- 
fully the  little  table  thoroughly  equipped  with 
writing  materials,  the  easy-chair  and  couch  sup- 
plied with  new  cushions,  the  pale  blue  draping 
of  the  bed  evidently  quite  new,  and  the  blue  cur- 
tains over  which  the  red  light  from  the  stove 
played  merrily.  How  good  he  had  always  been 
to  her,  always  so  kind  and  considerate ! 


PAULA  365 

And  in  this  room,  ah !  what  happiness  they 
might  have  known !  Here  in  this  solitary  ice- 
bound villa,  shut  away  from  the  harrowing,  pester- 
ing world,  forgotten  for  a  time,  alone  in  this  oasis 
of  comfort,  in  the  wilderness  of  snow. 

If  it  might  have  been !  The  tears  gathered 
slowly,  very  slowly,  and  fell  one  by  one  on  the 
pillow.  Still  a  faint  wonder  possessed  her  that 
she  did  not  feel  more.  The  old  fierce,  leaping 
passion,  the  wild,  demanding  longing  was  gone, 
even  her  love  for  Vincent  seemed  feeble  within 
her. 

Had  she  been  put  back  at  the  Livorno  station 
now,  she  felt  with  wonder  she  would  not  attempt 
the  walk  again.  The  splendid  impetus,  the  strong 
desire,  which  makes  all  things  possible,  was  not 
with  her  now,  and  she  felt  a  sudden  humiliation. 
Had  all  these  then  been  drained  from  her  with  her 
blood  ?  Did  that  bright  life-stream  carry  all  that 
was  of  worth  in  her,  all  her  love  and  courage  and 
endurance,  all  her  passion,  on  its  tide  ?  Was  there 
nothing  then  but  this  ? 

Then  suddenly  there  stole  back  to  her  brain  the 
memory  of  the  little  smoke-filled  room  in  Lisle 
Street,  and  she  saw  herself  again  lying  on  the 
shabby  horse-hair  couch  on  the  evening  after 
Vincent  had  paid  her  the  first  visit.  It  all  came 
back  to  her,  and  suddenly  his  own  warning,  that  it 
was  necessary  to  understand  the  powers  and  laws 
of  one's  being.     Ah  !   if  she  had  but  listened,  but 


366  PAULA 

understood  then,  how  different  her  life  might  have 
been!  Had  she  but  understood  when  he  had  told 
her  once  so  gently  that  the  duty  of  the  human 
being  is  not  to  fight  against  and  rebel  against 
Nature,  but  to  obey  her  ;  to  try  and  understand 
her  commands,  and  follow  them,  not  to  presume  to 
dictate  terms  to  a  deity. 

Now  that  she  lay  there  dying,  bloodless,  help- 
less, will-less,  she  understood  at  last  the  terrible 
power  of  the  body.  How  much  wiser  he  had  been, 
with  his  simple  direct  male  knowledge  of  the 
common  laws  of  life,  than  herself,  with  all  her  stores 
of  wide  theoretical  learning;  her  mad  idolatry  of 
the  intellect,  and  of  her  art;  the  chimeras,  the 
wandering  fires  that  dance  so  delusively  over  the 
swamps  of  death !  She  understood  now,  only  she 
had  learned  it  all  too  late.  She  turned  to  the  wall, 
feeling  a  lethargic  weakness  slowly  drawing  her 
into  itself;  a  soft  slumber  enfolded  her,  beneficent 
in  its  touch,  obliterating  and  effacing  her  humilia- 
tion, regret,  and  despair. 

Shortly  after,  the  doctor  came  patiently  upstairs 
again,  and  found  her  sleeping.  He  gave  strict 
orders  to  the  old  woman  to  watch  her,  and  call 
him  if  the  faint  colour  of  her  lips  grew  paler  or  her 
breathing  weaker,  and  then  re-descended,  with 
wearied  steps,  to  his  other  patient.  Vincent's 
nervous,  excitable  system  seemed  to  have  re- 
sponded extraordinarily  to  the  operation  ;  the  only 
danger  now   was  that  of  possible   fever,  and   the 


PAULA  367 

doctor  hastened  to  tell  him  the  ^irl  was  tranquil 
and  asleep. 

When  it  was  well  past  midnight,  everything  was 
still  in  the  villa,  and  a  peaceful  quietness  had  settled 
down  upon  it,  that  seemed  to  correspond  with  the 
icy  solemnity  of  the  frozen  night  outside. 

In  Vincent's  room  both  stoves  had  been  crammed 
with  fuel  and  burnt  steadily  with  wide  set  doors, 
and  the  porcelain  of  their  sides  glowing  at  red 
heat.  In  the  adjoining  ante-chamber  lay  the 
doctor,  taking  a  snatch  of  necessary  sleep,  and  not 
far  from  Vincent's  bed,  where  he  had  been  placed 
to  watch  the  patient,  sat  Stanhope,  his  arms  crossed 
on  a  console  table  and  his  head  bowed  on  them, 
wrapped  in  an  involuntary  drowsiness. 

Vincent  himself,  after  restless  tossing  and  in- 
cessant worrying  for  the  girl's  presence,  had  suc- 
cumbed, too,  to  the  warmth  of  the  room,  the  wine 
and  brandy  administered,  and  his  own  exhaustion, 
and  full  of  the  thought  of  to-morrow's  promised 
meeting,  had  drifted  into  the  gentle,  soothing  sleep 
of  the  convalescent.  Upstairs,  in  the  girl's  room, 
all  was  quiet,  except  for  the  loud  monotonous 
breathing  of  the  old  woman  who  dozed  in  the  arm- 
chair by  the  stove. 

Paula  herself  had  been  asleep,  and  awoke  with  a 
sudden  shudder  of  deadly  cold  and  a  fluttering  of 
her  heart  she  could  not  calm.  She  sat  up,  and 
then  started  from  the  bed  in  helpless  terror.  She 
seemed  to  hear  a  whisper  telling  her  she  was  dying. 


368  PAULA 

Vincent?  Where  was  he?  She  could  not  die 
so  far  from  him.  Where  had  they  brought  her? 
Like  a  wounded  animal,  she  staggered  to  the  door 
and  opened  it.  Before  her  lay  a  long  stone  cor- 
ridor, and  the  moonlight  flooded  it.  The  passage 
was  cold  and  silent  as  the  vault  of  a  tomb.  Paula 
stood  there;  her  white  night-dress  touched  her  bare 
feet,  its  left  sleeve  was  rolled  up  to  the  shoulder, 
and  her  bandaged  arm  hung  bare  at  her  side :  on 
the  floor  of  the  corridor  fell  the  shadow  of  the  lace 
at  her  throat,  and  the  delicate  tracery  on  the 
stone  trembled  as  her  heart-beats  shook  it.  She 
walked  forward  towards  the  window  with  her 
arms  outstretched  to  the  walls  on  either  side.  It 
was  the  very  attitude  in  which  she  had  so  often 
walked  smiling  down  towards  the  footlights  before 
her  dance,  amidst  the  applause  of  the  delighted 
house.  Only  a  few  paces,  and  then  she  fell  suddenly 
to  her  knees  ;  her  ankles  were  weak  and  useless  as 
cotton  wool. 

She  made  no  attempt  to  rise,  but  crawled  for- 
ward with  tremulous  haste  to  the  stairs  and  dragged 
herself  down  them.  They  were  white  marble,  and 
without  carpets.  The  descent  was  slow  and 
painful,  and  each  of  the  white  steps  took  some 
of  her  remaining  warmth. 

When  she  reached  the  corridor  beneath,  all  below 
her  knees  had  lost  feeling  and  was  cold  as  the 
flooring.  His  door  was  there,  but  a  little  way  off 
now,  and  its  warm  crack  of  light  was  visible  be- 


PAULA  369 

neath  it.  She  crawled  as  far  as  the  door  and  there 
paused,  striking  against  the  panels  in  a  strcngthless 
heap.  The  moonlight  found  her  out  and  fell  in 
upon  her  in  one  square  patch  through  the  upper 
pane  of  the  staircase  window,  and  she  looked  up; 
the  sky  seemed  very  far,  and  in  it  travelled  alone 
the  moon,  high  up  over  the  snow-white  plain  in  the 
clear  cold  sky.  It  was  very,  very  cold.  She  looked 
at  the  lonely  moon.  She  too  was  commencing 
that  journey  each  one  travels  alone. 

She  knew  that  she  was  dying.  She  knew  that 
the  moment  had  come — the  moment  of  the  great 
renunciation.  She  felt  in  some  overwhelming  way 
that  the  decision  had  been  made,  that  she  was  to 
die  then,  and  nothing  would  intervene  to  save  her. 
But  the  fear,  the  horror  of  death,  was  choked  by 
the  great  desire  to  die  there  by  his  side.  If  she 
micrht  have  done  that !  But  that  was  forbidden 
her.  She  was  afraid  to  enter,  lest  he  should  see  her 
dying  or  dead.  He  must  be  saved  the  shock  until 
he  was  well  and  could  bear  it.  Her  feeble  thoughts 
were  still  clear  and  keen  for  him.  Here,  outside 
his  room,  others  would  find  her  first  and  conceal 
her  death  from  him.  It  was  hard  that  the  door 
was  closed  between  them,  hard  that  she  was  shut 
outside,  but  still  it  was  well,  all  was  quite  well  now. 
She  knew  she  was  dying,  but  it  did  not  seem  so 
hard,  here,  so  close  to  him,  and  her  life  would  live 
on  in  his  veins. 

Within,  the  room  was  silent ;  the  shaded  night- 

24 


370  PAULA 

lamp  burned  steadily ;  from  the  bed  came  the 
soft,  regular  breathing  of  one  who  slept.  As  she 
was  drifting  in  stupor  out  slowly  on  the  cold 
stream  of  Death,  he  was  drifting  back  rapidly  on 
Life's  warm  current  to  the  world.  And  these  two 
souls,  that  had  loved  so  passionately  in  life,  passed 
close,  unknowing,  in  the  darkness,  on  Death's 
highway — passed,  and  so  parted,  never  to  find 
each  other  nor  to  meet  again. 

As  he  had  slept  unconscious  long  ago  when  she 
registered  the  vow  of  her  life  to  him,  so  he  slept 
now  whilst  it  was  accomplished.  It  was  as  if  Fate 
itself  had  lifted  him — her  protector,  the  man  who 
had  always  striven  to  save  and  shield  her — aside 
at  these  two  moments,  that  no  shade  of  responsi- 
bility, no  shadow  of  reproach,  could  fall  on  him. 

It  grew  colder ;  momentarily  the  temperature 
sank,  and  the  chilly  air  drew  the  last  vitality  from 
the  helpless  frame.  A  slight  convulsion  shook  her 
as  the  soul  tore  itself  loose  from  the  body  and 
came  fluttering  to  her  lips.  There  was  a  sigh,  a 
soft,  contented  breath,  and  the  spirit  dissolved 
itself  into  the  thin  air  from  her  pallid  lips. 

She  was  dead.  The  law,  the  major  lex,  the  eternal 
law  of  the  world  had  been  fulfilled  to  its  utter- 
most letter.  The  love  she  had  fancied  she  could 
control,  and  the  nature  she  had  thought  she  could 
crush  within  her,  had  risen  and  crushed  her  in 
return.  She  lay  outstretched  upon  the  mat  before 
his  door,  stiffening  rapidly  in  the  icy  atmosphere  ; 


PAULA  371 

her  face,  upturned  to  the  moonlight,  was  serene  and 
calm,  and  on  her  bosom  lay  the  shadow  from  the 
transverse  bars  of  the  window — the  shadow  of  a 
cross.  She  had  borne  it,  as  all  bear  it  through  this 
life,  the  cross  of  human  desires. 


L  Envoi. 

MANY  years  have  passed  since  then,  and  it  was  a 
hot,  sultry  night  in  May.  Even  now,  in  the  youth 
of  the  early  summer,  the  atmosphere  seemed  heavy, 
the  air  in  the  streets  oppressive,  as  in  late  August. 
The  young  pale  leaves  in  the  Green  Park  drooped 
languidly  in  the  still  night.  Within  the  theatres  the 
heat  was  excessive,  and  the  lines  of  stalls  seemed 
to  move  as  the  surface  of  a  rye  field  in  the  breeze, 
with  the  sway  of  innumerable  fans.  One  of  the 
West-end  theatres,  where  a  popular  piece  was  being 
played,  seemed  unusually  crowded.  The  third  act 
was  about  to  commence.  The  stalls  had  refilled. 
Two  women  in  the  front  row  had  just  resettled 
themselves  after  surveying  the  house. 

"  Do  you  see  those  two  men  in  the  box  just 
above  us  ?"  whispered  one  of  them  to  her  companion, 
behind  her  fan.  "  That's  Vincent  Halham,  that  one 
on  this  side,  whom  I  was  telling  you  about ;  don't 
you  remember?  " 

"Oh,    is    it?"    said    the   other,   putting  up  her 

372 


PAULA  375 

opera-glasses  discreetly.  "  Let  me  see,  what  was 
it  you  told  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  you  know.  He  seduced  his  friend's 
wife — that  sweet  dancer.  She  was  at  the  Halibury, 
I  think,  and  they  ran  away  together ;  then  I  think 
he  shot  the  husband,  or  she  did,  I  don't  know  quite 
which,  or  tried  to — anyway  they  separated,  and 
then  some  time  after  he  sent  for  her  to  join  him, 
and  I  suppose  they  couldn't  hit  it  off,  or  something, 
and  she  committed  suicide  somewhere — I  believe 
in  Italy.  I  am  not  quite  sure  how  it  went,  it's 
such  an  age  ago  now  ;  but  what's  so  funny  and  so 
interesting  is  that  they  say  he  is  quite  inconsolable, 
that  he  goes  everywhere  and  does  everything, 
1  but  he's  never  been  known  to  smile  since ' — that 
sort  of  idea,  you  know.  Isn't  it  all  romantic  and 
interesting  ?  " 

All  this  time  the  other  had  been  scrutinising  the 
occupant  of  the  box  silently  through  her  glasses. 
"  How  very  handsome  he  is ! "  she  said  softly,  as 
she  dropped  them  at  last  in  her  lap.  "  Fancy  a 
man  like  that  throwing  himself  away  on  a  ballet 
dancer ! " 

"Extraordinary,  isn't  it?"  returned  the  other, 
settling  herself  complacently  in  her  seat. 

"Some  common  girl,  I  suppose,  who  couldn't 
write  her  own  name." 

"  I  think  she  was  supposed  to  be  rather  clever," 
answered  the  other,  vaguely.  "  I  forget  a  good 
deal    I    heard  about  her.     One   does   forget   these 


374  TAULA 

things.  In  any  case,  I  don't  suppose  she  could 
appreciate  him ;  probably  only  cared  about  his 
position." 

"  Who  is  the  other  one  ;  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  that's  her  brother.  Halham  always  has 
him  about  with  him.  They've  been  inseparable  for 
years — ever  since  she  died,  in  fact.  Look,  this  is 
the  scene  they  criticised  so  in  the  Era. "  The  two 
women  looked  across  the  footlights,  and  Halham's 
peculiarities  were  temporarily  forgotten. 

He  sat  in  the  box  just  above  them,  looking 
towards  the  stage  with  unseeing  eyes.  His  elbow 
leaned  on  the  velvet  ledge,  his  chin  was  supported 
on  his  hand  ;  just  so,  he  had  sat  and  watched 
Paula  on  her  wedding  night,  bowing  by  Reeves's 
side  at  the  Halibury.  How  he  remembered  the 
wild  passion  and  agony  of  that  night — his  hatred 
and  envy  of  Reeves  ! 

And  now  Reeves  was  dead,  and  Paula  was 
dead  ;  and  of  the  unhappy  trio  only  he  remained, 
and  he  would  never  feel  passion  again.  They  were 
both  dead,  and  of  them  both  remained  the  one 
great  marble  tomb  in  the  London  cemetery,  where 
Reeves  had  ordered  his  executors  to  build  it,  with 
the  vacant  space  beside  it  that  waited  ever  vainly 
for  his  wife ;  and  far,  far  away  one  other  little 
lonely  grave,  in  the  barren  Ardenza  country,  where 
she  slept  under  the  eternal  Alps. 

For  years  she  has  been  sleeping  there,  and  the 
rains  and  snows  have  already  defaced   the  carved 


PAULA  375 

letters  of  her  name  upon  the  stone,  but  years  have 
not  blurred  it  in  his  brain.  To  him  it  seems 
stamped  for  ever  immutably  upon  his  memory. 
Night  after  night  brings  back  to  him  the  scene 
enacted  years  ago  in  the  lonely  Italian  villa,  where 
her  young  ardent  life  was  poured  so  joyously  into 
his  veins. 

Even  now  it  seems  to  him  her  heart  beats  in 
his,  her  pulse  moves  within  his  own.  Night  after 
night  before  his  closed  eyelids  stretches  the  lonely 
Ardenza  road  winding  through  the  snowy  waste, 
the  long  road  over  which  she  had  walked  so  gladly 
in  the  teeth  of  the  bitter  night,  bringing  to  him 
that  devoted  love,  that  superhuman  passion,  that 
had  had  the  strength  to  conquer  death  itself. 

His  friend  had  failed  him,  his  wealth,  his  doctor's 
skill, — all  these  would  have  let  him  pass  from  the 
world  in  their  midst ;  it  was  only  this  girl  who  had 
come  forward  and  thrown  her  body  across  the 
gates  of  his  tomb,  who  had  refused  to  let  him 
enter,  and  who  had  joyfully,  delightedly,  rendered 
up  her  life  in  his  stead. 

His  strained,  absent  eyes  fell  back  from  the  glare 
of  the  footlights,  behind  which  he  only  saw  her 
face,  and  wandered  over  the  well  of  the  house 
beneath  him.  So  many  of  these  women  were 
known  to  him.  Some  of  them,  he  had  heard  from 
his  friends,  and,  in  more  cases  than  one,  from  them- 
selves, loved  him.  Love  !  he  wondered  what  tests 
their  love  would  stand  :  within  himself,  his  passions 


3/6  PAULA 

seemed  obliterated.  These  women  ranked  with 
the  women  he  had  known  before  he  had  met 
Paula.  They  seemed  mere  dolls.  She  stood  out 
alone  amongst  them  all  as  real  and  living.  With 
her,  and  through  her,  he  seemed  to  have  known 
the  actual  essence  of  things,  the  reality  of  human 
love,  the  strength  of  human  passion  ;  and  the 
artifices  and  pretences  that  pass  under  their  name 
could  not  satisfy  him  again. 

The  curtain  fell,  and  the  applauding  told  him 
the  piece  had  come  to  an  end.  He  roused  himself, 
and  found  two  sad  eyes,  that  were  so  like  her  eyes, 
fixed  upon  him. 

"Are  you  ready,  Charlie?"  he  said  quietly; 
"  shall  we  go  ?  " 

"Yes.     Did  you  like  it?" 

"  I  really  haven't  seen  it,"  returned  Vincent. 
"  What  was  it  ?  You  must  tell  me  as  we  go 
home.      I  was  thinking  of  something  else." 

The  two  men  went  out  together  into  the  spring 
night.  Vincent  did  not  repeat  his  query,  and  the 
other  did  not  speak.  In  absolute  silence  they 
walked  on  till  Vincent's  rooms  were  reached. 

"  Coming  in  to-night,  Charlie  ?  "  he  asked. 

Charlie  looked  closely  at  the  calm,  white  face 
and  the  heavy -lidded  eyes,  with  their  darkened 
look  of  pain  and  repression.  "  No,  I  think  not," 
he  answered ;  and  after  an  affectionate  "  Good- 
night," walked  on  home.  "  What  can  words  avail 
against  a  grief  like  that  ?  "  he  muttered  to  himself. 


PAULA  377 

There  was  a  dull  pain  always  at  his  own  heart 
when  he  thought  of  that  caressing  voice,  those 
sweet  eyes  that  would  never  look  into  his  again  ; 
and  what  would  that  pain  be,  backed  with  the 
ache  and  hunger  of  an  unforgotten  passion  ? 

Vincent  went  up  alone  to  the  empty  solitude  of 
his  rooms.  He  was  resigned.  Resignation  is  the 
unfailing  gift  of  time  ;  but  there  were  moments, 
as  now,  when  the  resignation  of  clays  and  years 
broke  down  under  the  strain  of  an  irrepressible 
lonsine:.  His  sittincf-room  was  unlighted,  and  he 
did  not  stay  to  light  it,  but  passed  through  the 
wavering  shadows  thrown  through  it  from  without, 
and  went  into  the  inner  room  and  flung  himself 
face  downwards  on  the  bed. 

Oh,  if  he  could  regain  one  moment  from  the 
past!  if  he  could  feel  again,  for  one  instant,  that 
warm  heart  beneath  his  own  ! — the  heart  that  had 
ceased  to  beat  so  willingly  for  him. 

Humanity  has  three  great  consolations  for  the 
loss  of  the  objects  of  its  passions  : — To  forget,  to 
replace,  and  to  hope.  But  he  could  not  forget  the 
girl  who  had  surrendered  to  him  herself,  her  Art, 
and  at  last  her  Life  ;  he  could  not  replace  a  love 
that  was  of  its  nature  irreplaceable  ;  and  to  the 
materialist  there  is  not  any  hope. 

FINIS. 


THE  WALTER  SCOTT  PRESS,   NEWCASTXE-ON-TYNE. 


WORKS  BY  GEORGE  MOORE. 

Cloth,  Crown  Svo,  Price  6s. 

Esther   Waters:    A    Novel 

Ey  GEORGE  MOORE 

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observation  of  life  and  character,  Esther  Waters  is  not  only  immeasurably 
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'  Excessively  clever.'— The  Times. 

'  These  studies  are  amazingly  clever.'—  The  Daily  News. 

'  A  sympathetic  and  masterly  analysis  of  temperament.' — The 
Literary  World. 


Other  Novels  by  George  Moore 

Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $s.  6d.  each. 
A  DRAMA  IN   MUSLIN.     Seventh  Edition. 
A  MODERN   LOVER.     New  Edition. 
A  MUMMER'S  V/IFE.    Twentieth  Edition. 
VAIN    FORTUNE.      New    Revised   Edition.      With    Five 
Illustrations  by  Maurice  Greiffenhagex. 

New  Edition,  Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  6s. 
MODERN  PAINTING.  By  George  Moore. 
IMPRESSIONS  AND  OPINIONS.     By  George  Moore. 

'  His  book  is  one  of  the  best  books  about  pictures  that  have  come  into 
our  hands  for  some  y ears.  'St.  James's  Gazette. 

'A  more  original,  a  better  infoimed,  a  more  suggestive,  and,  let  us  add, 
a  more  amusing  work  on  the  art  of  to-day,  we  have  never  read  tnan  this 
volume.'—  Glasgow  Herald. 

LONDON:  Walter  Scott,  Ltd.,  Paternoster  Square. 


NEW  EDITION   AT   REDUCED    TRICE. 
AUTHORISED    VERSION. 

Crown  Svo,  Clo'/i,  Price  31.  6d. 

Peer  Gynt:  A  Dramatic  Poem 

By  HENRIK   IBSEN. 

Translated  by  WILLIAM  and  CHARLES  ARCHER. 


This  Translation,  though  unrhymed,  preserves  throughout 
the  various  rhythms  of  the  Original. 


'To  English  readers  this  will  not  merely  be  a  new  work  of 
the  Norwegian  poet,  dramatist,  and  satirist,  but  it  will  also  be 
a  new  Ibsen.  .  .  .  Here  is  the  imaginative  Ibsen,  indeed,  the 
Ibsen  of  such  a  boisterous,  irresistible  fertility  of  fancy  that  one 
breathes  with  difficulty  as  one  follows  him  on  his  headlong 
course.  .  .  .  "Peer  Gynt"  is  a  fantastical  satirical  drama  of 
enormous  interest,  and  the  present  translation  of  it  is  a  master- 
piece of  fluent,  powerful,  graceful,  and  literal  rendering.' — 
The  Daily  Chronicle. 


Crown  Svo,  Cloth  $s. 

The  Strike  at  Arlingford 

(Play  in  Three  Acts.) 
By    GEORGE    MOORE 

•  It  has  the  large  simplicity  of  really  great  drama,  and 
Mr.  Moore,  in  conceiving  it,  has  shown  the  truest  instinct  for 
the  art  he  is  for  the  first  time  essaying.'— W.  A.  in  The  World. 


LONDON  :   Waltjw  Scott,  Ltd.,  Paternoster  Square. 


Crown  Svo,  about  350  pp.  each,  Cloth  Cover,  2/6  per  Vol.; 
Half-Polished  Morocco,  Gilt  Top,  5s. 

Count  Tolstoy's  Works. 

The  following  Volumes  are  already  issued — 


A   RUSSIAN   PROPRIETOR. 

THE   COSSACKS. 

IVAN     ILYITCII,     AND     OTHER 

STORIES. 
MY   RELIGION. 
LIFE. 

MY  CONFESSION. 
CHILDHOOD,     BOYHOOD, 

YOUTH. 
THE  PHYSIOLOGY  OF  WAR. 
ANNA   KARENINA.      3/6. 


WHAT  TO   DO? 

WAR   AND   PEACE.      (4  vols.) 

THE  LONG  EXILE,   ETC 

SEVASTOPOL. 

THE   KREUTZER  SONATA,  AND 

FAMILY   HAPPINESS. 
THE      KINGDOM     OF     GOD     IS 

WITHIN    YOU. 
WORK    WHILE    YE    HAVE    THE 

LIGHT. 
THE   GOSPEL   IN   BRIEF. 


Uniform  with  the  above — 

IMPRESSIONS  OF  RUSSIA.     By  Dr.  Georg  Brandes. 

Post  4to,  Cloth,  Price  is. 

PATRIOTISM   AND   CHRISTIANITY. 

To  which  is  appended  a  Reply  to  Criticisms  of  the  Work. 

By  Count  Toi.stoy. 

1/-  Booklets  by  Count  Tolstoy. 

Bound  in  White  Grained  Boards,  with  Gilt  Lettering. 
WHERE   LOVE  IS,  THERE   GOD 

IS  ALSO. 
THE  TWO  PILGRIMS. 
WHAT   MEN   LIVE   BY. 


THE   GODSON. 

IF    YOU    NEGLECT    THE    FIRF, 

YOU   DON'T   PUT   IT   OUT. 
WHAT  SHALL  IT  PROFIT  A  MAN  ? 


2/-   Booklets  by  Count  Tolstoy. 

NEW    EDITIONS,    REVISED. 

Sm.ill  i2mo,  Cloth,  with  Embossed  Design  on  Cover,  each  containing 

Two  Stories  by  Count  Tolstoy,  and  Two  Drawings  by 

II.  R.  Millar.     In  Box,  Price  2s.  each. 

Volume  I.  contains — 

WHERE    LOVE    IS,   THERE   GOD 

IS  ALSO. 
THE  GODSON. 

Volume  II.  contains — 

WHAT   MEN   LIVE  BY. 
WHAT     SHALL     IT     PROFIT     A 
MAN? 


Volume  III.  contains — 
THE  TWO  PILGRIMS. 
IF    YOU    NEGLECT    THE    FIRE, 

YOU   DON'T   PUT   IT  OUT. 

Volume  IV.  contains — 
MASTER   AND  MAN. 

Volume  V.  contains — 
TOLSTOY'S   PARABLES. 


London:  Walter  Scott,  Limited,  Paternoster  Square, 


THE   CONTEMPORARY  SCIENCE  SERIES. 

NEW   VOLUME. 

Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  Trice  3s.  6d. 

Hallucinations  and   Illusions: 

A  STUDY  OF  THE  FALLACIES  OF  PERCEPTION. 

By  EDMUND  PARISH. 

This  work  deals  not  only  with  the  pathology  of  the  subject,  but  with 
the  occurrence  of  the  phenomena  among  normal  persons,  bringing  to- 
gether the  international  statistics  of  the  matter.  It  discusses  fully  the 
causation  of  hallucinations  and  the  various  theories  that  have  been  put 
forward  ;  and  further,  it  examines  and  adversely  criticises  the  evidence 
which  has  been  brought  forward  in  favour  of  telepathy. 


NEW  EDITIONS. 
Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  Price  6s.     With  Numerous  Illustrations. 

Man  and  Woman  : 

A  STUDY  OF  HUMAN  SECONDARY  SEXUAL 

CHARACTERS. 

By  IIAVELOCK  ELLIS.     Second  Edition. 

"...  Hisbook  is  a  sane  and  impartial  consideration,  from  a  psychological 
and  anthropological  point  of  view  of  a  subject  which  is  certainly  of  primary 
interest," — Athcnasum. 


Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  Trice  3s.  6d. 
FOURTH    EDITION,  COMPLETELY   REVISED. 

Hypnotism. 

By    Dr.    ALBERT     MOLL. 

"  Marks  a  step  of  some  Importance  in  the  study  of  some  difficult  physiological 
and  psychological  problems  which  have  not  yet  received  much  attention  in 
the  scientific  world  of  England." — Future. 

London :  Walter  Scott,  Limited,  Paternoster  Square. 


THE    CANTERBURY    POETS. 
NEW  VOLUMES. 

Square  Svo,  cloth,  is.;  Gravure  edition,  with  Frontispiece  Portrait  of 
Matthew  Arnold  in  Photogravure,  price  2s. 

The  Strayed  Reveller,  Empedocles 
on   Etna,  and  other  Poems. 

By  MATTHEW  ARNOLD. 
With  an  Introduction  by  WILLIAM  SHARP. 

The   Bothie,  and  other  Poems. 

By  ARTHUR  HUGH  CLOUGH. 
Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  Ernest  Rhys. 

Born  in  1S19,  educated  at  Rugby  under  Dr.  Arnold,  a  friend  and  school- 
fellow of  Matthew  Arnold,  and  the  subject  of  the  latter's  elegiac  poem  Thyrsis, 
Arthur  Hugh  Clough  is  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  Chaucerian  of  English 
poets,  and  in  The  Bothie  this  quality  is  specially  shown.  Less  known  than  it 
ought  to  be,  the  interest  of  the  story  itself  of  this  "  Long- Vacation  Pastoral," 
its  humour,  its  wisdom,  its  manly  feeling  for  life  and  nature,  and  the  high 
quality  of  its  poetry,  have  long  secured  for  The  Bothie  a  permanent  place  in 
our  literature. 

COMPLETION  OF  THIRD  AND  LAST  VOLUME. 

Dramatic   Essays. 

Edited  by  William  Archer  and  Robert  W.  Lowe. 

Three  Vols.,  Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  Price  3s.  6d.  per  Vol.,  each  with  a 
Frontispiece  Portrait  in  Photogravure. 

The  Set  supplied  in  Case  to  Match,  Price  ios.  6r>. 

Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  3s.  6d.     Third  Volume  now  ready. 

DRAMATIC  ESSAYS. 

Edited  by  William  Archer  and  Robert  W.  Lowe. 
Vol.  I.      With  a  Frontispiece  Portrait  in  Photogravure  of  Leigh  Hunt. 

The  First  Series  contains  the  criticisms  of  Leigh  Hunt,  both  those  col- 
lected by  himself  in  1807  (long  out  of  print),  and  the  admirable  articles 
contributed  more  than  twenty  years  ago  to  The  Tatler,  and  never 
republished. 
Vol.  II.      With  a  Frontispiece  Portrait  in  Photogravure  oj  Haditt. 

The  Second  Series  contains  the  criticisms  of  William  Hazlitt.  Hazlitt's 
Essays  on  Kean  and  his  contemporaries  have  long  been  inaccessible, 
save  to  collectors. 
Vol.  III.  With  a  Frontispiece  Portrait  in  Photogravure  of  George  Henry  Lewes. 
This  Volume  contains  hitherto  uncollected  criticisms  by  John  Forster, 
George  Henry  Lewes,  and  Selections  from  the  writings  of  William 
Robson  (The  Old  Playgoer).     Each  Volume  is  complete  in  itself. 


The    World's    Great    Novels. 

Large  Crown  Zvo,  Illustrated,  %s.  6d.  each. 

(Uniform  with  the  New  Edition  of  "Anna  Karenina.") 

A  series  of  acknowledged  masterpieces  by  the  most  eminent  writers 
of  fiction.  Paper,  type,  and  binding  will  all  be  of  the  most  satisfactory 
description,  and  such  as  to  make  these  volumes  suitable  either  for  pre- 
sentation or  for  a  permanent  place  in  the  library.  Three  volumes  are 
now  included  ;  to  these  others  will  be  added  from  time  to  time.  The 
greatest  pains  has  been  taken  over  the  new  translations  of  Dumas'  two 
most  famous  works  to  render  them  both  faithful  and  idiomatic. 

THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE-CRISTO. 

By   ALEXANDRE    DUMAS. 

With  Sixteen  Full-page  Illustrations  drawn  by  Frank  T.  Merrill, 

and  over  Iioo  pages  of  letterpress,  set  in  large  clear  type. 

THE  THREE  MUSKETEERS. 

By  ALEXANDRE  DUMAS. 

With  Twelve  Full-page  Illustrations  drawn  by  T.  Eyre  Macklin,  a 

Photogravure  Frontispiece  Portrait  of  the  Author,  and  over  600  pages 

of  letterpress,  printed  from  large  clear  type. 

JANE    EYRE. 

Ey     CHARLOTTE      BRONTE. 

With  Sixteen  Full-page  Illustrations,  and  Thirty-two  Illustrations  in 
the  Text,  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett,  and  Photogravure  Portrait  of 
Charlotte  Bronte.     Printed  in  large  clear  type;  660  pages  of  letterpress. 

Tolstoy's  Great  Masterpiece.     New  Edition  of  Anna  Karenina. 

ANNA    KARfiNINA. 

A  NOVEL.   By  COUNT  TOLSTOY. 

With  Ten  Illustrations  drawn  by  Paul  Frenzeny,  and  a  Frontispiece 
Portrait  of  Count  Tolstoy  in  Photogravure. 

"  Other  novels  one  can  afford  to  leave  unread,  but  Anna  KarSnina 
never;  it  stands  eternally  one  of  the  peaks  of  all  fiction." — Review  of 
Reviews. 


hOKDQx;  WAI/1KU  SCOTT,  Ltd.,  Patkr.voster  Square. 


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